


DA-154 (DAISY): Space Rhink 1 - Space Popera

by thrilljoy



Series: Space Rhink [1]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: F/M, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, pining!Rhett, rhink, space!rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24707605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrilljoy/pseuds/thrilljoy
Summary: This is the smutty, angsty story of Rhett McLaughlin - Captain of the DA-154 (AKA DAISY), Charles Lincoln Neal III - the Founder of an increasingly shadier spaceship company, and their journey back to each other? Rhett and Link have been on the rocks for years. Link's shady business associates and government contracts have catapulted him into the uppercrust and it's gone to his head 'cause now he's taking one for a bride? Huh? He has Rhett doing shady intergalactic runs for him, and is he fomenting a rebellion? This can't end well!This story is an umami bomb! Super unbetaed - but open to suggestions - looking to improve - love prose, but I'm often loquacious af! This started off as a space popera, then the quotes came, then Sapir Whorf and censorship and language. I wanted some space elements, some intergalactic espionage and hijinx! Also food - exploring Haitian cuisine - yum - for a destination wedding on another planet! But mostly, I wanted to be bummed out about Rhett and Link and lose faith in their ability to come together at the end of it all. I wanted to make myself doubt that they truly, truly, truly belonged together. I couldn’t do it. They do. They just fucking do!
Relationships: Cassie Cobb & Stevie Wynne Levine, Christy Neal/Link Neal, Jessie McLaughlin/Rhett McLaughlin, Rhett McLaughlin/Josh Scherer, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: Space Rhink [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786303
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. On not being drunk at the party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swank affair; Rhett and Link are seated at the same table despite backroom maneuvers with the hosts in the effort to be separated.  
> Link's moved on and has a new blond on his arm.  
> Rhett has an encounter on his last night before a long voyage… and a surprise waiting in his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Sun Go Down - Andrew Applepie; Unique is My Dove - Matisyahu; White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane
> 
> Quote: “Days I feel like a human being, while other days I feel more like a sound. I touch the world not as myself but as an echo of who I was.” - Ocean Vuong

Link walked up to their table, a vision in his crisp navy suit. His grey streak was swooped and spritzed just so. His blue eyes piercing and attentive behind those clear-rimmed glasses. Rhett cursed his luck. For all his begging the host to relocate his seat (so he wouldn’t be at Link’s table), it seemed Link had been making the same pleas! In some cruel stroke of luck, here they were: across from each other, together... at a completely different table. 

Rhett had run out of words to convince Link he was different and committed to change. Recovering. From Rhett’s mouth, the words “I’m sorry,” were anathema to Link. His recoil and flashing eyes were seared into Rhett’s memory, on replay, remixed, restyled. 

He wanted to reach across the table, cover the smaller man’s hand with his, feel some of his warmth, his smooth skin, play with his fingers, the callouses he knew, the clean trimmed nails, that one funny knuckle. Those were  _ his _ hands. And now there they were, idly playing with his watch and then absentmindedly raking through his date’s hair, playing in her curls, rubbing the back of her neck, her shoulders, feeding her strawberries. Strawberries were their thing! C’mon, that was a low blow!

Rhett grumbled, pushed back from the table and crashed toward the bar. Just his luck he couldn’t drink himself blind but he could drink himself to the point where it physically hurt; to the point where he could wrap himself around a little fancy porcelain throne in this mega-mansion, the coolness of the tile and the crisp air from the window thrown haphazardly open chilling him to the wick, the beads of sweat - on his brow, his nose, the top of his lip - dancing and going cold. 

The knock on the bathroom door was probably quite gentle, but it shattered - could neurons get upset? His were! “WHAT!” He roared. His tie was balled up just out of reach, so he threw his suit jacket at the door instead. The whoompf not as powerful as he would have liked.

“Buns, it’s me,” Link said softly. Mixed signals.  _ Poo! _ Rhett wanted to call out to him. Kneejerk. Habit. Happier times. Not now. And come on - Rhettybuns? Another fucking jab - right in the feels. He knew Link’s pity at the site of him like his would just make the situation worse. And it would be misplaced. 

See, he wasn’t drunk. All it took these days was two weak ones, or one strong one, and the wire was tripped. Cold sweats, shivers, a dull, aching pit of nausea and that wubbly skuzzy brummelly* feeling they had old timey words for but the CompuDeck© Thesaurus didn’t go back that far. That feeling like too much black tea on your tongue, or how mold must feel to bread, or that piece of string that just feathered down your leg … that prickle of fear  _ riiiiiight _ there. That’s how he felt after just one drink. So no, he wasn’t drunk. One less thing for them to argue about. Not that either of them had much fight left. Link’s little perky, blonde, bosomy, button-nosed babe was probably getting all that now. 

“Fuck!”

“Can I come in?” Link scratched lightly at the door.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Ok. But-“

“No.”

Silence. And the pounding ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom of his blood in his head. He knew it was shitty, asking Stevie to come get him… a whole crew full of brawny dudes - some of the newer ones would bend over backward to be of use to him - get some gold stars. And he’d gone and asked that one, that particular person. He did it to piss Link off, just a little. To see if he could still get a rise out of him. Wondering if Link had gone numb to him, to them. They only ever fought about a handful of things and Stevie’d been one of them - something about bad influences. If he’d have known that Poo would come find him, slide down the wall and camp out across from the bathroom, he wouldn’t have called her. Swear.

He dozed off a little, coming down. His body not so overheated. The coolness of the tile feeling so nice. He took off his shirt and laid his back on the floor.

“Stevie!?” He heard the betrayal in Link’s voice. Knew at once that though Link probably saw right through his plan, it still hurt. Rhett gathered his errant clothes, just enough time to jam his gangly fucking limbs into his sleeves before-

“Hello …. Charlessssss.” Stevie never called anyone by a nickname. Ever. The annoyance and disdain in her voice were barely hidden. Coincidentally - the pot calling the kettle black - she thought Link was a bad influence. 

Rhett threw the door open, Stevie had her hair in a tight bun, poking through one of Rhett’s old Mets caps. Dark blue SkyDeck uniform. Levine stitched in gold on her lapel.

“I see you’ve been promoted,” Link, terse.

“Yes.” Stevie, flat. “About time, just shy of overdue, but you know Rhett. Well…” She chuckled for emphasis, “...knew.” She punctuated with a hair toss, her long strawberry blonde tresses fanning across her shoulder.

See, that’s why he called Stevie in. She took the role of reinforcement seriously. Maybe, too seriously. 

And Link, his Link, never one to be one-upped. “Fine. That’s that, I guess,” he slapped his thigh. “I should get back-“

“Yes. I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Charles.” Stevie smiled, no teeth, but cloying all the same.

Link bristled but knew he was about to get the last laugh, “right, uh get back to my fiancé.” There. Right there. That’s where Rhett, you know, LOST IT!

“ _ Fiancé _ ,” he spat, “what- it- it’s - we- boy, you move- where- it’s only- how- it’s been EIGHT FUCKING MONTHS.” He sputtered, finally settling on the crux of it. “I haven’t even done laundry.” Hyperbole, obvs. What would possess the man - money? But Link wasn’t like that. Fame? That little button nose looked familiar, why couldn’t Rhett place it… her?

“When you know-“

“Don’t you DARE finish that sentence, Link. I will end you right where you stand!” He’d never gotten violent with Link before. Not violent, violent, rough, but only when Link asked for it. When he fixed those full naughty little lips into a pout and dropped chili sweet requests like choke me, hit me, pinch me, fuck me, fuck me hard. How could Rhett not? See his bruises, his fingerprints, welts, raised edges, hair standing on end, flushed skin, heat, sweat, their smell.

Link demurred, slightly. “Listen. Come get your shit or it’s trash.  _ Capische _ .” That was another word you couldn’t find in the CompuDeck. Weird. With the right motivations you could hide things in plain sight with contraband words.  _ Capische _ ? Was he trying to send a message? Beyond the get your shit or it’s trash of it all?

“Fine, we leave day after tomorrow. I’ll swing by before wheels up.”

Link turned on his heel.

Stevie puffed air out through her lips. “Swanky digs, what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, you know,” Rhett motioned belatedly with his arm. Eight months and Link hadn’t incinerated his stuff. Interesting. Or was he putting too much hope into this? Stuffing too much what if between the lines, making this non-thing a thing, getting his hopes up. For what? Fiancé. A blonde too. Jeez, he had a type.

“Well it’s not like you’re casing the joint. Been legit too long. These people truly think you belong here. Oh what’s that smell, not trash - that tall fellow over there. Ha! Pull yourself together, Rhett.”

“Okay,” Rhett buttoned his suit jacket and once again looked every bit the spacecraft commander come to hobnob for the night. 

“You clean up nice, Cap.”

“Thanks.”

“And what’s this now about pushing back wheelsies for an old flame? You really want a box of old what’s-its and doo-dads?” Her affectation read ‘40s, and she narrowly dodged a swat for that.

“Eight months. He’s gone back to batting for the other team and netted a golden fish in eight months. Shows up here, with a date, sits at my fucking table, crawls back here with the soft voice, and now wants me to come get my shit?”

“Yeah, so don’t. Don’t go over there. Fuck ‘im.”

“I won’t.” Rhett deadpanned, not truly sure which directive he wasn’t not going to follow.

Stevie scoffed the next morning when to no one’s surprise Rhett was fitted in a casual uniform and steel toed boots, ready to go get his stuff.

Stevie huffed at the sight of him, “Take Josh, he has to do some last minute provisioning anyway.”

The code to their- Link’s building hadn’t changed. Rhett parked in a temporary spot and took the elevator up. He adjusted his SkyDeck cap and knocked on the door. 

Link opened the door, hair askew, glasses in his hair, closer to him now Rhett could see flecks of silver in his light scruff. A bowl of cereal was perched in his long, slender fingers. “Didn’t think you’d show.” He was in that faded Aztec-esque robe they’d gotten once upon a time. Rhett’s matching robe probably still in the closet. Rhett eyed the box of things in the corner, *it* wasn’t there from what he could see. 

“Why. Not keeping my word was never  _ my _ issue.” There, that was one of the things he could’ve left unsaid.  _ That _ was one of his issues. 

Link rubbed his eyes, deflating. Then, just like *that* he pivoted on his back leg, the bowl crashing into the wall of the kitchen. Link lunged at him. “Why do you have to make this so fucking difficult?!.” 

Though Rhett caught one flailing arm, Link connected a hook with the other before recoiling. “Shit! Rhett, I-“

Rhett waited for the ringing in his ears to stop, “I deserved that one.” He tried to joke. He could see tears well up in Link’s eyes. “No,” he coaxed Link backwards, shutting the door behind them with a boot. He looked round the kitchen then down to Link’s slippered feet. “Get me something icy, or cold.”

Rhett plopped down on the sofa. Link scurried back to him with a bag of peas, the crunch of glass caught under his slippers the only sound between them. “Towel.” Rhett urged. Link was off again, fumbling in the little linen closet for a towel. He returned and pressed the towel into Rhett’s hand, hovered - wringing his hands - as Rhett wrapped the peas in the towel and placed it against his cheek and ear. With his other hand he pulled Link down to sit down next to him. He overshot and pulled Link into his lap, the smaller man scrambled off of him, dragging his thigh along Rhett as he settled, still close, still touching. He squeezed Rhett’s shoulder before returning his hands back into his lap. Rhett hadn’t realized just how thirsty he’d been for any physical contact with the man. Rhett leaned his thigh more into Link’s. Link pushed him away, “Rhett,” he breathed.

“Come on, eight months. New relationship. Ya really getting your rocks off? Ya really getting all you want. Now you’ve got to play Mr. Big and Bad. She making you feel all the things I did? I know you too well, Link… she know you yet?” Too strong?

“Rhett.”

He switched tact, “Let me make you feel good. Please. For me.” He was begging now, almost mewling! “Let me make you feel so, so good before I go hurtling through space time at Mach speed in my, what did you used to call it?”

“Rhett’s Ricketty clap-trap.” Link rubbed his neck. Closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, my ricketty clap trap.” Rhett nudged him with his knee, his other hand, snaking up Link’s arm.

Link smiled, the look in his eyes a million miles away.

“Poo, come on. Say no and I drop it. Say no and I take my stuff and leave. Leave you to whatever it is you’re doing with Ms. Puff and Fluff, Dirty Money Mining Heiress.” See? Too much. And he  _ did _ know where he recognized that face!

“Leave!” 

Rhett threw the peas onto the couch, bruise be damned. At least it gave him something to feel. “It’s my last night before a trek. I’m gone a year. You know where to find me.” He rifled through the box, had only come for one thing anyway. All the other stuff could burn or be donated to novelty thrift stores for all he cared. Only one thing meant enough to him to salvage, spelled the end for them. True finality. It wasn’t there. Rhett let the smile flash across his lips, and rolled his eyes knowingly. A decoy was there. Something else that meant something, but not as much as the real McCoy. A token of their first everything, all those years ago. But he had his memories for all that. The one thing that spelled the end wasn’t there and that’s all that mattered.

“Burn it,” Rhett called over his shoulder, slamming the door behind. 

Later, the crew met for last night drinks and karaoke - sweethearts welcome. The songs got more raucous as the alcohol flowed. Last song, per tradition, was American Pie. The crew belting out the words, choking back tears. Those who could still walk or still had some party in them, headed around the corner to Sloppy Joe’s for the last hurrah. Rhett made eyes at the barmaid - Jessie - a new tall brunette with a wicked quick wit, tattoos here and there, and a hearty rack. She had him blowing a sloppy load into her wet, skilled mouth out back during a cigarette break, his knees buckling, groans coming from deep in his belly. She toyed with him, oversensitive and twitching, moaning, spitting filth into his ear, nibbling at his neck, as he fingered her, playing with her and hitting the spot just right, an assault on two fronts until she was pressed against him, begging him not to stop. He was back at attention, she was wet and wanting more, so he pushed her harder into the wall, one hand on her throat, the other mashing and pinching her breasts and nipples. He pounded into her, easing her off the wall a bit so she could play with herself, he played with the rhythm, slow agonizingly long strokes then picked up the pace with shorter thrusts. He felt his hips and rhythm stagger as he neared his climax and coaxed her hips back and forth, letting her bring them both there. He cried out as he came, and nestled into her hair as she rode him through it, finishing herself. He played with her as her hands pinched her nipples. 

“Fuck,” he breathed into her neck. “That was good.” 

“Agreed,” she smirked. Slapping him on the ass before returning inside to get cleaned up. He followed her in, heading to the men’s bathroom. Cleaning up in the sink before heading back to the bar, half hoping to see Link there, part of him not. Couldn’t bear the look on his face as he realized where Rhett had just been, and with whom. He waited a little while longer, babysitting a water and a weak coffee. Running down the clock until he accepted the truth: Link was not coming. 

He caught a lift back to his ship from a bus boy leaving for the night. He did a walkthrough of the ship - noting who wasn’t in their barracks - before retiring to his quarters. He had almost distracted himself enough to forget about Link, until he saw the man laying in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Inspired by 1982 Annie’s You’re Never Fully Dressed Without Smile [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ry79LzkkDb4] (your clothes may be Beau Brummelly… and a little bit of Lewis Carroll’s, The Jabberwocky) [https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42916/jabberwocky]


	2. Insert Smut Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett has another encounter before his voyage… this one more um- sentimental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Die Young - Sylvan Esso; Blu - Jon Bellion; Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap
> 
> Quote: “I belong to your heart/ With devotion, and seeing/ Every part of my being/ Is a part of your heart./ And when you reach out for me/ Your two arms are a magnet/ And I'm caught in the dragnet./ Oh, but who wants to be free?” Sam Cooke, I Belong to Your Heart

“A year?” Link wore one of Rhett’s old hoodies and a pair of sweatpants - the box business had so clearly been a bluff. A pair of beat up Vans were in front of his couch, along with Link’s socks. 

“I see you made yourself comfortable,” he chuckled. “Yah, a year.”

“But the trip to Glister-9 is three months roundtrip at Mach.”

“A. How do you know about my trip to Glister? B. That’s not the only stop on this tour, Einstein.”

“News about us hasn’t made it to Ellie,” he snorted. “If you can believe that! I was at Customs the other day and she... Rhett, I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I, Link. I just want to be better for you. I do.”

“And I know you think that Rhett, but there’s some stuff going on in there,” Link gestured a circle in the general area of Rhett’s head, “that you have to face. I can’t help with that, and it makes me feel weak and worried.”

“So what! I’ve seen some things, who hasn’t?”

“Me.”

If Link felt he couldn’t help Rhett with the magnitude of his problems, Rhett bristled that he couldn’t help Link with his inadequacy issues, his fear of the unknown, the need to always be certain before acting, the need for control over everything. That was such an old world, privileged way of thinking. They had neither the privilege nor the security to think like that. They were nothings, smears on a Petri dish in the grand scheme of things. Nearing middle age in meatbag bodies that were increasingly being used just for grunt work. He couldn’t afford or justify that way of thinking anymore - as if humans were still on top of the chain. As if they knew everything and had all the answers. As if they could ever truly control anything. Sometimes he was so focused on being who he felt he needed to be for Link that he ignored whether Link let himself be swayed by the same pressure from and for Rhett. It made Rhett feel cheap, and desperate. All the power he gave Link over him. How he formulated almost everything to be to Link’s liking. But he wanted to be Link’s everything and for Link to be his everything in return. Perfect fit like yin to yang. No less. If that was the price...

“Link-“

“Hold me.”

“I stink, two seconds.” He needed to wash another woman off of him. He raced to his shower, tore his clothes off, ran the water, lathered his hair and ran the soap along his body, scrubbing vigorously. He let the hot water wash over him and stretched a bit, warming his muscles. He toweled off, wrapping his hair in an old tee. This close to  _ wheels _ every unnecessary luxury like two towels - that needed to be washed and dried - was a draw on power and a compromise down the line, possibly at the expense of safety. He pulled on a pair of cheesy galaxy print boxer briefs a certain someone gifted him many years ago. 

Link still had his hoodie on. “Take it off,” Rhett urged as he exited his bathroom. He turned put on his moisturizer, his eyes on Link in the mirror. 

He wanted to ask where button-nose-blonde thought he was but decided against it.

Rhett crawled under the covers, meeting Link there and pulling him into his embrace. Link settled and inhaled, taking in Rhett’s smell. He nestled into Link, smelling his hair, his skin. He brushed his lips against the top of Link’s earlobe, the nape of his neck, nosed into the nook where his ear met his jaw. He pulled them both lower onto the bed and deeper into each other’s space. Tonight, he would make Link no promises he couldn’t keep, wouldn’t make Link feel guilty for choosing himself, for not being enough and wouldn’t goad himself for being too much. Tonight he would enjoy this - the touching, the scent of his boy in his arms where he belonged. He would take that and it would get him through the next few months. And when his need for companionship and release overrode his better judgement, and only a certain crew member could fill that void - it would be them in here, instead of Link. But he could pretend. 

Rhett reached for the remote to dim the lights as he felt Link’s breaths grow deeper. He traced patterns in his hair. The smaller man turned, getting more comfortable, pressing himself into Rhett more, belly to belly, bulge to bulge. Rhett pressed patterns into Link’s neck, his shoulders, the small of his back, his hands settling there, just above the curve of his cute little butt. His sweet peach.  _ His _ sweet peach. His neck. His shoulders. His belly. His bulge. His boy. His Poo. This was all he had wanted for months and it was too much for him. He choked down a sob, begged his chest not to heave so much, screamed silently in the darkness as the tears fell. His boy content, soft, warm and snoring - damn near purring - in his sleep. But here he was, awake, racked with guilt and longing. Not for the first time in as many months, he cried himself to sleep. Trying not to jostle Link as he reached up to wipe tears from his face. He dozed off thinking of all the ways he could be better for him, would be better for him if given the chance. Yet another stinkin’ chance. 

He didn’t look at the time - couldn’t bear to calculate how little time he still had left with Link - when he came to. Warmth in his belly, his legs splayed open, something soft and tender happening down where his underwear used to be. The dimmer slightly up, he could make out Link’s eyes on him. His hand trailing this way and that. That’s not what had roused him from his sleep. It was the other hand. Expertly yet languidly playing with him. He moved his thigh just a bit, there. Link was hard too. Pants gone, boxers. Rhett reached down, palmed him. Link bit his lip and groaned. Rhett let his head roll back, Link’s lip found his and kissed deeply. Rhett let his lips apologize wordlessly, say the things Link did and didn’t want to hear, that Rhett was too chicken to say, all the things he didn’t want to tell him he’d done. Link faltered, caught up in the space of the kiss, the high. What did Sam Cooke call it?  _ ‘The dragnet.’  _ And Rhett did not want to be free.

He pulled Link onto him. Link ground down, keeping a rhythm, milking them, keeping them going while they did this. Kissing and sucking and biting and pulling. Enough stimulation there, urgency and fire below. Rhett wanted him, wanted him forgetting his name, stuttering, asking for things, unwinding. One year. He pulled Link close and flipped them over, throwing Link’s legs wide.

“Top drawer,” Link threw his hands up, fumbled around for purchase. Got the drawer open and spilled its contents locating the bottle of lube. It was the little one, Rhett refilled it. Knew it would be off-putting for a partner to have to lug out the venti, so he kept the tall at the bedside. Link squirted it onto himself, Rhett lapped some up with his fingers and teased his hole, played with his taint, pushed in, teasing at Link’s spots. Taking it slow - by his count it had been months since Link last got some action like this. He got squirmy, leaking. Rhett dipped down to give his cock some attention. Playing with the head, teasing along that vein, letting the hairs of his beard tickle the balls, along the base, his inner thigh. Link’s moans got more high pitched, he’d mix in a guttural here and there but his register was higher, whiny, needy. He needed this. Rhett felt full, to be able to give him this. Like only he could. Another finger, more pressure, concentrated right there. Link bucked against him. Finding Rhett’s hair and pulling him down. Demanding more sensation, more wetness, more heat. He wanted to be overwhelmed. Rhett took him in his mouth, gagged down to the base, let spit and precum dribble down. Pushed in a third, eased up on it, sucked harder, focused on the tip. At the third finger, Link gasped, his belly concave. Rhett sucked back up to the tip and let Link out with a wet pop. Heard the smack as it flopped against his belly. 

“Breathe.”

“I don’t want to. I want more.” Greedy, greedy boy.

Rhett tsked, “No, Cixi,” their pet name for greedy - thanks to Rhett’s penchant for historical fiction… and historical play, “breathe.” Some nights Empress Dowager Cixi, some Marie Antoinette, old Ebenezer Scrooge. Rhett pressed in further. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck,” all the cohesion Link could muster. He covered his eyes, his face; his fingers in his mouth, he bit them, squeezed his nipples, the sheets, pulled Rhett’s hair. Any sensation to counter all that goodness, all in one place. Too much. “Keep going babyyyy.” He whined. 

Baby. What Rhett would give to hear Link call him that again and again and again. He went back in, full force. Gagging and three fingers in he felt Link stiffen, fall over the edge and spill into him. Let him fuck as deep and hard as he wanted to into his mouth, his three fingers still in, still pressing and probing gently, frying Link. He was hard, so hard, ready. Link panted. 

“More.”

Rhett crawled up. Moving slowly, loving the blissed out look on Link’s face. And the hunger. Insatiable. “Cixi, so greedy, what about your people?” He kissed him, deep, as he pushed in. 

Link moaned into his mouth, turning his head and pushing him off so he could cry out into the darkness between them. “Fuck, yes, slow... easy, right there. Let them eat cake.” Mixing the metaphor but the spirit was there. 

Still sensitive, so Rhett went slow. Wanting to hold the pace just so, to hold Link right here in this moment. Short, tight thrusts in, and out, in and out, rocking, restrained. He felt Link clench then loosen a bit, so he took a bit more, eased him back into it.

“You’re so big.” Rhett knew. Link was big too. That got him, but that’s not what did it for him. Praise wasn’t his thing - or his only thing. He liked what words couldn’t say, what only sounds could communicate. Liked the space where neither could formulate words, especially Link. If Link could still form coherent sentences, he wasn’t there yet. He pushed in some more, Link dug into his shoulder. Rhett cried out and recoiled, pulling out more. Link whined at the loss, helped him guide it back in, Rhett dropped down, his hands a dome around Link’s head, supported on his elbows, his face in Link’s neck, biting. He eased in more, more rocking. Harder, he picked up the pace, a little swivel, got into a rhythm. Link moaned so close and loud in his ear catching onto the rhythm. His hands gripping Rhett’s ass as he laid into him. He was close, the audio doing it for him, but he wanted visual. The mirror. He pulled out completely. Link slapped his ass. “Rhett!”

He pulled himself up, then Link. Maneuvering Link on his hands and knees facing the mirror, he pulled him backwards with him as he got off the bed, and stood. “Perfect.” He eased back in, used Link’s hips for leverage, then shoulders, then put his hands around Link’s neck, a light squeeze, he pulled him up with each thrust. Taking in more of their picture, his hair every which way, little bruises already peppering Link’s torso, his neck a minefield of little marks from Rhett’s lips and teeth. Link was fully vertical now, his legs on either side of Rhett, his back arched, cock swinging and pumping with their rhythm. Link used the mirror to guide his hands back into Rhett’s hair. 

“I’m close, baby, so close.” Baby again, Rhett almost lost it there, he clenched his teeth. Closed his eyes, Link pulled at his hair. “Watch us, Open your eyes, baby.” He rutted against Rhett. “You’re close too aren’t you,” he said, voice syrupy. “Cum for me.”

Rhett groaned, picking up speed, pushing Link back down, hands back to his hips. Using the bounce of the bed for recoil to slam into him. “Fuck baby! Come for me! Make me come. Make me come.” Link whined. He clenched, increasing the resistance, Rhett’s rhythm stuttered.

“Fuck,” he could feel his leg shaking as he came. Link arched down, got his hands into the bed for balance and threw his hips back against Rhett, fucking against him as he came. Rhett pressed down onto Link and they collapsed onto the bed. Rhett let his full weight fall on Link and settled there for a bit before rolling off of him. 

“I want to fuck you Rhett.” Not the first time he asked. Not the first time they switched, but it was rare. Rhett liked it, would use plugs and toys just for himself, even kept some in his quarters. Rhett never asked though. But Link was offering. And Rhett would do anything to keep him in this room even a moment longer. 

“Please? Would you?” Even though Link was offering he still begged.

“Yeah?” Link bit his bottom lip.

“Please.” Rhett repeated, couldn’t think of anything else, and please said so much.

“M’kay,” Link slapped Rhett’s belly. “Gonna fuck my big boy.” He kissed a trail down his trunk, playing in the trail of hair under Rhett’s belly button, opened his legs and sucked Rhett’s cock into his mouth, his full lips so pink and perfect. Rhett propped himself on his elbows to get a look. His cock red and a little spent, it flopped this way and that as Link pushed it aside to get to his tight little hole.

“Love your tight little hole. You been playing in there?”

“A little.” Rhett looked away. Had been a while since he played. Hadn’t given that area any attention since that one time Josh had thrown his long legs over his shoulder, ass propped on a pillow to support his back, and gotten in there nice and deep, Rhett sure his groans and shouts could be heard echoing down the hall. But Link didn’t have to know that. And Josh didn’t bring it up, at least not in words. “Been a while.”

Link smirked, he licked his finger and played with the rim, his face down and used his tongue. Rhett moaned and begged for more. Link found the lube and with a healthy dollop it was one finger and then two. Just as Rhett had done, Link incorporated his desperate, chubbing, leaking cock into the equation and when Rhett was close a third and then he was lining up, lubing up and pressing in. 

“Link,” Rhett half moaned, half whinnied. “Link.” His name on his lips, hands in his hair, his spit, his cock, so much, yes. “Yes, yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

“Honey?” 

“No.” Link snapped his hips, a bit deeper. Rhett loosened. He liked this game. Knew Link liked it. “Yes what?” He repeated. Each word punctuated with a thrust. 

“Yes Poo?” He reached above his head, gripping the pillow, arching his back, wanting the thrust to go deep. Wanting all of Link’s length. Ready. Eager to be made a fuck toy. Pounded like he’d pounded what’s her name at the bar. He gave it like he liked it.

“Unh uh,” more thrusts. Link groaned at the slip, as he bottomed out. He hit a spot and Rhett rolled his hips, his eyes rolling. 

“Right there, baby.” Fuck, he’d gone and said it. It had just spilled out. He couldn’t help it.

“Haha,” Link picked up the pace, getting a more secure hold on Rhett’s thighs. Rhett covered his eyes, couldn’t bear to watch his cock slap against his stomach with each thrust. Thought it was beautiful when he made Link do it, but with the tables turned...

“I want to see you, move your hands.”

Rhett shook his head. 

“I’m going to make you ride me and you’ll have no choice.”

Rhett moved his hands, opting instead to grip the sheets as Link got back up to speed. “Play with yourself.” Rhett did as he was told. Timing his pumps at half the rhythm, the staggering added a dizzying syncopation. He was close. 

“Link,” he tried to catch his breath, “I’m clo-“

“Yeah baby, you gonna come for me again?”

“Yeah,” he whined.

“No, not without my permission.”

Rhett slowed the rhythm down, and clenched. Two could play that game. Link moaned as he fucked into Rhett’s tightened hole. “Fuck.”

As Link started to come undone Rhett pulsed, alternating on which thrusts Link easily bottomed out and on which he felt pressure.

“Fuck. I’m close baby. You still want to come for me?”

“No,” Rhett said, clenching.

“Fuck! Come for me.”

Rhett picked up the pace of his pumps, arched his back up more, “right there, right there, right there, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckLinkLinkLinkLink, baby!” He was over the edge and Link was soon to follow. 


	3. Two words - sounds like or Strung along like a cat on twine - depends who you ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link drops a hint or two, the crew talks about censorship, language and hiding in plain site. The crew does some reading, and makes the right decision, hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Cosmic Love - Florence and the Machine; Viva La Vida - Coldplay; Mirror - Justin Timberlake

Slaked and spent, the boys stumbled into Rhett’s bathroom. They kissed and held each other in the shower, using this last opportunity to run their fingers over each other. “I need...” Link asked, gesturing to the bruises.

Rhett rifled quickly through his medicine cabinet but Link saw the pills anyway. A sharp inhale.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, but... that’s arcane.”

“No, they updated the formula. I’m in a trial.”

“A trial? What... like research? Still, these pills are barbaric! It’s a souped up Antabuse dressed up in a neogalactic shell, but it’s the same thing.”

“Listen, it works. I have my drinking under control, it imposes limits until I can do it myself.” Rhett handed the ointment to Link, not wanting to risk the rejection if Link didn’t want him to apply it, signaling the moment officially ruined. But Link gave him a little half smile and lifted his chin, displaying the marks on his neck, shoulders, chest. Rhett applied the ointment tenderly to each one and the skin soothed and returned closer to its natural color. A little redder but more so from the increased blood flow and less from the stagnant blood that had been behind the bruise. Rhett applied none to himself - except for the walloper on his face - wanting reminders of their night, however he could get it. He pulled Link into him and the pair walked back to the bed, and dressed in silence.

The display over his desk chirped. Josh was requesting to communicate. “Audio only,” Rhett quipped. 

“Chef Josh, how goes.” Rhett started, before Josh could get a word in. 

Josh caught on quickly. “Captain. Crew breakfast is ready in mess.”

“Got room for 2 more?”

“10-4.”

“Texas-sized 10-4,”** Rhett joked to Link. Another one of those expressions that hadn’t made the cut: 10-4.

The comms blitzed out, leaving the two left to finish dressing quietly by the light of the new sun. The pair walked hand in hand to the mess hall. Stevie had been served her slop and was just starting to tuck in when the two entered. She slammed her hands on the table, grabbed her tray and stormed off. Link stiffened but didn’t let any emotion show on his face. They took their servings and sat in the space vacated by Stevie. 

Rhett looked around the room getting a head count, making mental note of who was still missing so he could assign Chase to recon. He was fun and games but those not on their stations by rundown - the start of the two hour countdown to wheels up, forfeited their bonus, one hour out and they were cut from the run. That was part of why he always returned to the ship after nights out, and urged his crew to do the same. His old heads had caught on quickly, that’s why they were here with him in mess, tucking into smoothies, fluffy veg frittatas and buttery scones, and not in any of the holes or ditches Rhett had found himself in many a night. Chase entered the hall, grabbed his mess and settled across from Rhett. 

“Cap what’d you get into after karaoke?” He stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth and looked up at his Captain with mischief in his eyes. Link cleared his throat.

“Hey Char- Link! Long time no see, man!” Chase got up from the table and walked around to clap Link on the back and pull him into a hug. Link grinned, he’d always liked the kid. Thought he was good for Rhett. Stevie had been talking at Chase about Link though, only thing that could have explained that slip. 

The trio talked about this and that, Link relaxing into the familiar reverie. After everyone aboard had been served, Josh came over and filled out their trio, flanked by Micah - his new aide and Kevin - who manned Rhett’s Enterprises’ physical office. The six talked easily, the conversation eventually steering toward language and the increasingly harsher crackdown on using vernacular. 

“It seems like everything not in the CompuDeck codex is being deemed vernacular. That means hundreds of languages. And they’re increasing the fines for “word crimes,” and charging ridiculous fees for those zeta* chips for wrist units. And of course they’re not making them available for non-implantees so eventually we’re all going to be forced to have one of those things implanted into our bodies!” Kevin slammed his hand down, and brought his mug of coffee to his lips.

“Breathe Kevin. I’ve been thinking about the language thing. Find myself coming across words like that, like 10-4 earlier,” Rhett gestured in Josh’s direction. “Or what was that word you said yesterday, Link.” 

Rhett could see Josh clench at mention of yesterday, but he didn’t acknowledge. 

“Capish.” Link said. A little easy on the ‘i’ but Rhett let it slide.

“Yeah, capische,” Rhett repeated, pronouncing it correctly, “like ‘got it;’ Italian origin. When’s the last time you heard that word? Or used it. But we used it to communicate so much more often in the past! Words have moods, have memories, and hidden meanings, we use them to encode and to obfuscate. Words are weapons, right? But they can also be prisons - when we talk about labels or slurs, or propaganda. I’m thinking about that book by Sam Delaney,” Rhett snapped his fingers, the name on the tip of his tongue, “Babel something. Babel, Christ, Babel... whatever. But it’s about Sapir-Whorf, language shapes how you see the world. Or think 1984, language and words were important there. Or remember global warming vs climate change and by the time people got their heads out of their asses it was already climate emergency. And we all know what happened to Earth-1, some of us lived through it! That’s what I’m worried about. Language shapes us, if we can only think with the words we have and can only communicate with them then they’re super important, probably most important.”

“Yeah, man.” Kevin piped back up, “its trending toward autocracy, or maybe the other way. Remember the great debates about your, you’re and ur, there, their and they’re, where, were and we’re, and even capeesh vs capish. What’s that thing - non dupes errent, how elitist it is to correct someone when you know what they mean, you just want them to be your definition of correct. It’s almost fascist? We concur ‘cause we called those folks grammar nazis, or that guy from Seinfeld, soup nazi. I hacked into the codex backlogs - not on the ship, offsite - and nazi was removed a while ago. The powers that be don’t want us using the word nazi, man! Words have history - they make you remember certain things and forget others! Toni freaking Morrison said it! “Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence; does more than represent the limits of knowledge; it limits knowledge.”

Kevin had started to go a little foil cap on them, Rhett reined it in, promising they’d talk more about it when they were floating in the middle of the inky black with nothing to do for hours on end. But he wanted to get back to Link. To ask him what had made him come.

Rhett gave Link their look. The one that said, ‘let’s shut the world out for a bit.’ Link nodded. They bussed their dishes and Rhett led Link to the empty crew lounge.

“So, ya heading back to work?” Rhett asked, sitting on the couch, pulling Link down, close but with some space between them.” 

“Yeah, might as well. We should talk when you get back, Rhett.”

Why can’t we talk now? Rhett wondered. “Yeah, can you get one of your guys to look at my ship, let me know how to get at least 5 more years out of her without breaking the bank?”

Link huffed, this was another one of their arguments. Link urging him to get patrons who could provide him capital without the threat of breaking his kneecaps, and Rhett arguing that no one was legit where money was concerned, that everyone was a loan shark if you dug down deep enough. Then that led to the argument about it being high time Rhett put his engineering and other degrees to use - actual use - and quit hopping the galaxy on a glorified delivery vessel more Fry than Zapp Brannigan. Rhett argued that when this planet fell - like the last one had - Link’d be thanking his gods his man had a delivery vessel, knowledge and connections throughout all of the fucking known universe. But then Link would go quiet, and it didn’t feel so good to be right. Not after all they’d left behind, all they had lost. Didn’t feel right to play that card just to be ‘right.’ “Yeah, we should talk. I’ll set something up. But you’ve got to do something for me. I’ll throw in a discount.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Rhett angled toward him, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. He knew his cheeks were doing that thing where they looked like two little plums. Link called them his cheekies. True to form, Link reached up and pinched them slightly. 

“Can you see who’s operating the obsidian crater mining on Kepler-452a?”

“Kep-A? They’re mining its moon? What about B? Surely the actual planetary body is replete...”

“I’m uh- trying to get in early. Don’t want to use other channels cuz that might tip some people off, or spook the guys I have on the line. I just want to know what my options are.”

“We’ll be in that area after our run. Like to go out there and see what last minute runs we can do at a price hike. We clean up out there.... Hmm, and I do have some people I should check in with on B. Shouldn’t be too much to swing.”

“Does it mess up your plans to have to re-route? I need an answer in a couple months. I uh- I really don’t have a year, Rhett. Not to be pushy, but...”

“Yeah,” Rhett chortled. “If ifs and buts were candy and nuts...”

“You’d call them Link and fuck ‘em.”

“Yeah, ha! You know I love all your ifs and buts.”

“I wouldn’t ask, I wouldn’t press if it was imporgent. You like that? Important and urgent.” Rhett and Link both put their hands to their ears and flapped them like satellites picking up signals and laughed. 

“I’ll blip you when we’re on course and I’ll send you an official report of what I find.” So that was it. The favor. Link needn’t’ve fucked him just to ask for this favor. “Anything else, Link? So that wasn’t ‘goodbye, you’re out of my life forever’ sex?”

“Rhett, you’re back in a year and by then I’ll be long married. That’s exactly what that was.”

Why so fast! He was rearing to ask him. Had to know! “Fine. If it’s not too cliche of me, can we be friends, then?” Could they ever truly return to friends? Even when they were friends there was all that pent-up attraction and sexual tension they ignored and channeled into roughhousing and scathing, witty cut-ups. Could they ever be dry, platonic friends without any of the overtures, innuendo and double entendre that had found Rhett whimpering and moaning, thinking of Link between his legs, his hands all over that man’s tight little body, wishing his palm were Link’s anything, breathing his name into his pillow? Friends? When in all the years since they’d finally befriended each other in junior high school had they been just friends? Even before that when Rhett was beating up the bullies of the scrawny older kid with the dark hair and blue eyes who was building mock spaceships and robots, and winning all the state and local science fairs. There was still something about Link that had fascinated him in a non-platonic way. Rhett’d had his own things going - word nerd that he was he won every spelling bee and mock trial, not to mention sports… but that was different. Even back then, space exploration was being done with more urgency, and increasing secrecy, and Charlie - as he was called at the time - had his head beyond the clouds. 

“That’d be new for us,” Link chuckled. He knew, as much as Rhett knew, that he could never be just friends with the man, unless you had a vast, heavily appendixed and footnoted, loose definition of the word. 

And it was with the vow of friendship that they left each other. Rhett still had the bruises and hickeys and when those faded, and Rhett’s memory of all the things they did and how they felt that night went fuzzy, he let Josh in. 

Stevie had been none too happy to alter their course for Link’s pet project but she acquiesced when Rhett reminded her all the debauchery that awaited them on Kepler B. They made sure to keep their requisite distance from what they’d termed the ‘Bermuda Triangle.’ This fuzzy patch not too far out from the outer perimeter of B’s orbit path. But even though they’d run that route plenty of times, their machinery went loopy much faster than usual and they had to adjust and readjust their course and still felt something nagging. 

Rhett sent Gregg and Chase out in scopers; they reported nothing unusual. The audio was clear, though they were on the ship’s dedicated channel. Rhett ran to his room to get his old textbooks, navigation logs and almanacs. His crew called these space junk, they were woefully outdated but he had a feeling the answer to the weirdness wouldn’t be found on their ship’s navigational software up to code with the latest updates and patches from Link’s company’s grandfather company, but really the shadow Corp that actually ran it and just about everything else. 

“All non-essential personnel clear this room,” Rhett bellowed, before slamming the pile of books on the command desk. He passed the materials around. Everyone flip to whatever page maps this area. Tell me what year the data’s from, and what the hell is here that we’re not seeing or what the hell was here, or just what the hell.”

“2013,” Micah piped up, new kid, still full of vim and vigor and something to prove. 

“Ah, yes,” Rhett mused playfully, “the year Earth-1 secretly joined the Universal Federation. ‘Thanks, Obama,’ as the kids used to say.”

“Right,” Micah replied, “says something’s here but uncharted, feeling a slight pull. Two vessels ventured out in the hopes of getting this far but couldn’t.”

“2015,” that was Alex, “Keppler 452b discovered by telescope, it was the Russians who ventured out, they did a bunch of things in plain site while the only story about them that dominated the media was still Crimea.”

“2019,” that was Stevie, “all those SpaceX launches, those were actually long range hyperspeed vessels meant to act as darts, to blaze towards planetary systems, get caught in their orbit and report back.”

“Yeah,” Rhett replied, “2019, wasn’t that the year one of those rovers went dark and stopped sending back images.” 

“Yeah,” that was Micah, “But one of my brothers has clearance and looked at some docs and said they actually pulled that vessel to start exploring something else.”

“That’s the year I was born, 2019.”

Rhett stated, rubbing his beard. He’d ask Josh to help him cut it tonight, the guy liked domestic shit like that and he forgot to give him that side of him. Had to remind himself it wasn’t a betrayal of Link to crack himself back open and reveal his soft parts to another person. Link was a few years older than him, born in 2016, he kept that to himself. 

“Ok, now it’s 2030, I guess, and the Chinese were dominating. They have a little celestial body here, Rhett. When drawn linear in 2d, this little planet on top of the moon on top of the major planetary body looks like a snowman with a cap on. So they called it 帽 or Mào which means cap. In 2036 when the USA joined forces with the Chinese to outpace the Russians, they shared data and they called it ‘Cap piece’.”

“Cap piece?” Weird. That stuck in Rhett’s brain, like an ear worm. It sounded familiar. 

“Ok we can fill in the gaps, a bit. 2038 Space War. Lots of things went boom. Maps redrawn. Who has the earliest map after 2038? 

Christina, “I guess I do, 2042.” Shows it as a pile of rocks and an exclusion zone - for lack of a better word.” Cute little lisp, tiny girl, not to be fucked with, rising up the ranks fast though she was one of his newer hires

“Whose map?”

“Chinese.”

“Makes sense-“

“Right,” she interjected, sensing where he was going with this, agreeing, “Seems right, fair almost, they discovered it, they get right of first refusal. And we’ve been avoiding it ever since because the maps say this is dangerous and debris filled.”

Rhett nodded, enthusiastically. “But that name, cap piece. It’s too many words. It’s like how you’d explain it to...” To someone who didn’t speak your language. Who didn’t understand. Who didn’t …  _ capische _ ? You got it? 

He turned to Stevie and and her deputy on controls, “Go dark. Shields up, all non-essential stuff powered down. Recall the pods, battle stations as it were.”

“Rhett,” Stevie shot up from her chair, piqued, “you want to walk me through your thinking here.” 

“No. How many of those do I get per trip?”

“It’s per year and you already used it. It’s why we were on Gazo* 7 with no clearance illegally collecting samples for your crooked Customs friend, and that nest in the incubation room that you have our medical team monitoring full-time. Ring a bell? But-” Stevie held up a finger, triumphantly, “I haven’t used my veto yet, though. So...”

*think Gazorpazop from Rick and Morty. Morty’s son is from there.

“There’s something there. Gotta be, why else would Link-“

“Because he knows you’re still desperately pining Rhett! You’re still doing the sad puppy dog thing with the eyes and the frown and the whimpers and the sad shoulders. It would be oh so fucking pathetic, but he likes it too! He knows if he can keep giving you hope, you can stay his errand boy! Rhett, you still think that there is something, anything, you can do to get him back - but it’s been a year! He’s getting married any day now if not already. Why are we risking our lives, VIOLATING Chinese sovereignty and breaking LITERAL laws that we don’t even know exist for that man?!”

Rhett glared at the woman. It hurt to be read like that. Only someone who had never been in this situation could react like that, could see through with such clarity and conviction. Had the woman never held out blind hope for a change of heart or divine intervention? All that she had seen in the years of traveling the galaxy with him and she was this jaded, to her core? Did love mean nothing to her? Every planet he saw decimated, every shady deal he brought some humanity to, every animal population he helped bring back from extinction, every oppressed people he helped relocate so Corp this and Enterprise that could mime their planet to shit renewed his faith in humanity, knowing and hoping that more men like him had had crews like his with conviction and grit to intervene and hope for better. If Stevie had lost that, he didn’t know if she had a place on his brig anymore. 

“Stevie, put your feelings about him aside. Take just the facts, hidden message he risked everything to get to me - oh you weren’t there, I’ll get to that, mock assignment to get us in this area just to be right here, a zone of weirdness that we EMPIRICALLY know is now wider than it’s been on previous trips. We have to give it a wider berth now. That day Link was here he kept using this old word ‘capische,’ I think he was telling me to look for this or at least to know that I was on the right track when I found it.” Rhett paused to read Stevie’s reaction. Nothing. “And now just the history - if those facts aren’t enough for you. China finds a planet, lets the Americans in and then blows it up and no one bats another eye. And that name: Cap piece. I’m a wood guy. Cap piece is a carpentry term, it’s a piece of wood that’s used to give more support. The only way planets support other planets is if you’re sending people there or you’re mining resources and sending them to another planet. Your standard pump and dump.”

Stevie always played skeptic to his naive. She was the only one he ever let have that power over him, only trusted her with that dynamic. But she came around quickly. “How can we get him a message, then? What did he want you to do?”

“I don’t know, but don’t you think it’s weird that all these years we’ve been zooming past this area due to fragment and shards we only ever saw flagged on the map and a strange push and pull, and now the zone is getting bigger. Almost as if it is actually finally exploding. Like they planned it? Or planned for it?”

“You’re telling me you’ll go dark on a dying, actively contracting supernova to-be... all for Charles Lincoln Neal? Rhett, wake up! Put on your thinking cap, not your mopey, lovesick, jilted dunce cap. Snap out of it! You’ve got a crew full of people you’re endangering for this guy. For what?”

“I don’t know, Stevie. I don’t have an answer. But we’ve got to do it. You get that, right. You feel it.”

Stevie nodded, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. Betraying her resolve. She’d made up her mind, but. There was always a but with Rhett, it seemed. How was it that of all the people in his life who he let close to him, it was only Josh and always Josh who ever went all in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *like Rosetta Stone.  
> **Letterkenny fans, eh!


	4. Reveille and cannons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett reconnects with Josh … and Link … and gets an invitation off-planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Fray, Everything You Want - Vertical Horizon; The Middle - Jimmy Eat World

The crew jumped into gear. Going dark meant turning off all the high tech systems and returning the ship to prefab (state before all the upgrades). They were relying on just the things that were now considered contraband, since they couldn’t be detected by all the high tech sensors. Subverso mode. They drifted and got pretty dang close before they were locked on a beam, being pulled in. A face was patched into their comms, Rhett was ready. 

“Captain Rhett James McLaughlin of the Good Ship US DA-154 AKA DAISY.”

“Captain McLaughlin, this is Sub-Lieutenant Chen of the US-Chinese Post on CP-01A. State your business-“

A monster of a ship zoomed by Rhett, narrowly missing DAISY though she shook in its wake, if not for the magnetic lock they would have been blown sideways.

A crackle and a hiss, a different voice, more urgent and fearful, further away from the man with whom they’d been communicating. “-what the fuck! They just left! All the men aren’t out yet! And there’s still more-“

“Captain McLaughlin, this is officially a distressed planet. However you found it is beside the point. How much space do you have on your vessel for me and cargo?”

“Why? You’ve got me snared, how do I know the minute I open my doors you won’t commandeer... and switch places with us.”

“I recognize the insignia on your ship.” The Lamont insignia? How? Only those in the know, knew. This thing was a vintage. Link hadn’t used that seal in over a decade. “We’ve been mining for, let’s say, a parent company of his...”

“Ok.” This was starting to make sense? Right?

“-and this planet is officially unstable. Mined to shit. We’re taking the last of it. Or were, until things went sideways. If our compatriots are worth their salt they’ve already burned us, marked us dead, coming up with the story as we speak. Help us change that. Let us load up the ship with our remaining crew, our gear, anything we can pull from the walls we bring, including food, drink, fuel, money and of course raw material. It’s already crated. As much as you can carry and still fly. Our life is in your hands.”

Rhett looked to Stevie, her resolve had returned. She nodded and got on the mic. “All hands on deck, I repeat, all hands on deck. Report to Deck A and B to load in crates. Medical unit and anyone not loading proceed to Deck C for decontamination and personnel check. All personnel are to bring their excess uniforms to Deck C. Strip your tags en route. 

“How much time do we have.”

“Unclear but let’s operate as if it’s only about one hour. That includes the time to clear the splash zone, and you’ve got to ghost out of here once we turn off the lock, or you’ll get snared again and we’re all fucked.”

Splash zone, cute. A planet was about to puke it’s literal core out. Seething molten core, rocks of innumerable size and density, and they were calling it a splash zone like they were at the aquarium? “How many men are you?”

“The men left in this room. Five. Myself, my deputy, two engineers and a tech...”

Not unimportant men, Rhett thought.

“And about 20 miners, but they just have to go back to Kep-B.”

“Oh yeah, and where are we taking you five?”

“Let’s discuss that once we’re completely clear of the splash zone… preferably after a few drinks. 

The engineer, Rhett and the Sub-Lieutenant thought through a plan to hold the lock open so they could make a run to Daisy and then trip the mechanism locked onto Rhett’s ship so they could motor off and then go dark to clear its reach. None of the men were confident but a rumble hit the station, knocking out the video and made the audio fuzzy. Rhett handed Command over to Stevie and sprint to Deck C to meet the new crew. “Close down Decks A and B and prepare to go dark on my signal, he called over his shoulder.”

Later, a little shaken, but alive, the now-expanded crew sat down to dinner. They’d docked in Keppler, not sure if it was safe to release the miners until they were clear and back up to Mach. Who knows what awaited them. The miners were convinced they were such small fish that neither they nor their families were in any danger. The skeptics, persuasive as they were, had been outvoted and so crew meal was had, ship balanced out and re-fueled. The workers were outfitted with plain clothes and released on their own recognizance. DAISY was off. 

Back up to speed, Rhett turned in for the night. He showered and shuffled off to bed. There was a soft knock on his door.

“Cap, it’s me,” Josh’s voice sounded small.

Rhett let him in and pulled him into a hug. Pulled his shirt over his head, kissed him tenderly. Pushed him onto the bed, did away with both of their underwear, sank to his knees and showed Josh his appreciation. Josh came and Rhett lapped at his hole, he looked up at him, asking if it was okay to keep going. Josh nodded, smiling, running his hands through Rhett’s hair. He gave Josh the best approximation of making love he could - though he never cared for that turn of phrase. Josh was so appreciative. His moans and whines hit Rhett in all the same places, but dulled. He buried his head in Josh’s neck, his muscular shoulders, his tight belly, his hips, his toned thighs - he could convince himself they were someone else’s. It wasn’t fair but these days he was willing to work with what he had until it was what he truly wanted. He gasped and cried out as he came, Josh praising him, thanking him. It was too much. Rhett didn’t deserve such adoration. Maybe it was the power thing. But he gave Josh free reign, ‘Cap’ was formality at this point. None of his old heads truly thought of him as a hierarchical leader, more like a big brother. Well, maybe they used to. Until the drinking. Now there was more decentralization. That’s how Rhett rationalized this, now. Why it was okay for him to be here with Josh right now.

He pulled out of Josh and flipped him over. Laid on top of him, rutted against him, thinking of Link until he was hard again. More lube, back in again, less tender and gentle, more desperate and primal. Josh bucked against him, back arched and propped up on his elbow. Angled to get at his cock, Rhett took his hands behind his back, used them for leverage as he snapped into him. Josh’s head in the pillows, cheek down so he could breathe between gasps, moans and begging. He plowed into him, not proud of the urgency, of the mechanics, needed this, needed to just take it. He chased after it, felt immediately guilty after he came with something shy of a roar, collapsing onto Josh. He was spent but needed to make it up to Josh. He slipped under him, width-wise on the bed, body parallel to the row of pillows, pulled Josh into his mouth and sucked vigorously. “Fuck my face,” he said, letting Josh out with a pop and a slurp. Knew Josh liked to get a little rough too. Rhett had a thing for guys that had a rough kink… or maybe he had a rough kink? Or maybe it was the domination element? Whatever. He collected more spit in his mouth and hollowed his cheeks. Let Josh fill him to gagging, coughing, sputtering, face thrown sideways now and again to cough, spit and catch his breath. Josh held onto his face as he neared his climax. Straddling the side of his face to look into his bloodshot, teary eyes as he rode his face. 

“Fuck, Rhett.” He threw his head back, rhythm slowing, plunging deeper and staggered as he came. Rhett squeezed his balls, milked the rest out of him. They showered, brushed teeth, Josh kissed at his chin and neck. They dried off and Josh clipped Rhett’s beard and hair wet. Rhett returned the favor. Though he liked Josh’s scruff, he tamed it a bith - keeping the hair shorter on the sides, longer on top. They brushed the hairs away, cleaned their faces and moisturized. 

Back in bed in just underwear, Rhett curled around Josh, ran his hands over his arms, his thigh, lulling him to sleep. Rhett couldn’t sleep yet though. Kept thinking about Link and Josh. How he wasn’t being fair to Josh with all the comparisons. Sure Link was older than Rhett and when they’d finally gotten intimate, though Rhett had more girlfriends and flings under his belt than his Linkypoo, Link had boyfriends and more knowledge about male pleasure. And had to guide Rhett along the learning curve. It had taken patience to teach Rhett about what made Link feel good and about what Rhett himself found pleasurable. Loving patience. Was he giving Josh that same grace? 

Rhett awoke to a buzz on his wrist unit, that also echoed in the vibration of his phone. He fumbled for it in the darkness, forgetting one arm was still under Josh. He rolled him away slightly and reclaimed his arm. Shook it awake and reached again for his phone, connecting with the pads of his fingers. Encrypted message from Link, a screenshot of a pending press release discussing weird activity in the area of the Bermuda Triangle, increased debris activity and a widened zone of exclusion for the time being. 

Rhett replied: yeah weird stuff, had to go dark to creep along there on our way to Keppler. Emergency landing. Heading back now, burning on all cylinders. 

Dark modes is what had finally attracted governmental - and galactic - interest in Link. That’s when the prototypes and freebies stopped and the insignia changed. 

> Link: Keep your eyes out for more from me. I went rogue on this one. If anyone saw you out there you might be in for some trouble. Got any stow-aways?
> 
> Rhett: Then we might have some trouble. A Sub-lieutenant and below and an engineer. Turned the grunts loose in plain clothes, they don’t seem fazed.
> 
> Link: Guy named Chen? 
> 
> Link: Ok your ship’s fitted with some rudimentary stuff, back from the beginning of my research into ore fuel. Now it’s been perfected, but the bones are there. See if you can’t have those guys rig something up so you can use their fuel. We’ve achieved new speeds, we call Boch. Boomless mach. No sonic boom, cleaner burn, crazy fast. You’re going to need to go shielded, shut off non-essentials, strap everyone down TIGHT. Chart a distance, you need to leave about a third or more of the distance for burn-off, I suggest just drifting, you’ll stay on course and the drag will help slow you down and calm your gut. 
> 
> Rhett: Yeah, Chen. Why?
> 
> Rhett: Boch, okay will talk to them in the am
> 
> Link: He wanted to keep the planet stable and start terraforming it. Main reason he was out there. 

Rhett started to drift back to sleep as they discussed more. He awoke to his alarm, and Josh’s absence. He asked Josh to have Micah bring some food to his room, left it at the door so he didn’t have to get dressed. He ate in silence, dressed, then went to find his stows. They discussed bach and other developments, and got to work, he lent them Jenn and Chase.

Stevie and Rhett conducted a tip to toe walkthrough and relieved night shift. Things went smoothly and before they knew it the stows and his crew were in the cockpit discussing the last tweaks before the shift to Boch. Stevie made the announcement for everyone to clip in, power to non-essential areas was cut and they made the jump. Rhett felt immense pressure behind his eyes, in his nose and in the base of his gut, it was hard to formulate thoughts. Drifting was worse. It was less like drifting and more like the stretch of hot mozzarella on an oily pizza. Yo-yoing was a more apt term, and he made up his mind to tell Link that.... and promptly forgot it when he stretched again. It was less like drifting and more like the stretch of hot mozz...

He felt woozy, the lights were too bright, Stevie was saying something, a trill in her voice, vibrations. He tried to put her into focus but it was like the room was spinning. 

“Repeat that,” he hoped he asked.

“I sa-ya-yaid we’re near-rear-rear-ring, time to turn back oh-yoh-yon and remove shields or we’ll get fla-ya-yagged.”

Rhett moved through molasses but finally connected with the switchboard and flipped everything on. The jolt as the ship kicked back on and took over control of the speed was the worst. He thought he might spew. He clicked out of his seatbelt and slid to the floor. The cold floor a boon to his head. He undid his coveralls and removed his under-layer so his bare skin could get in on the action. This was becoming a pattern with him. Maybe one could call it a pre-kink. He’d never done ice play with a partner, maybe that was something he and Chef Josh could do that was just theirs. He pulled his mind back to other things. Stevie made the announcement for all clear and repeated it. 

When they were back to their senses and Rhett was off the floor with a cold drink in his hand, Stevie laid in to him. “I was promised debauchery.”

“We’ll get you some debauchery, Stevie, I promise.”

They cleared the first level of customs. Link and his goons - for lack of a better word - were waiting for them. Helped them clear down the cargo holds and value the loot. Rhett had given the crew each a crate and had hidden cargo holds filled with more. Waiting to offload into the sub-level of his warehouse. He was sure the price would go up soon. He had some people on the black market he knew would pay big for this stuff. 

Link’s deputy went business on him, “On behalf of our parent company, Galacticus, I am prepared to offer you $7.5 million for this shipment, right now. You will not find a better deal.”

No time to balk, “Which means we could find a better deal?” He snapped and beckoned Chen over with his pointer finger.

“Rhett,” Link scoffed.

“Chen, what’s your valuation at today’s rate for the crates in front of you.”

“US rate or Chinese?”

“Whichever’s higher. Throw in a peril premium for risking life and limb, and a primo premium for state secrets.”

“$15 million.”

“How much were the premium?”

“3 million.”

“You heard him, boys,” Rhett turned back to the suit standing next to Link. “13 million.”

“I am authorized to go 13 million.”

“Darn,” Rhett snapped, a wry smile on his face. “Were you authorized to go $14 million?”

Suit returned the smile, extending his hand to shake, “I was authorized to go $14 million.”

“We’re gonna be here all night, aren’t we?” Rhett spat, “You telling me how much money I just left on the table, with that little shite-ating grin on your face?”

Suit nodded, grin deepening. The smug fuck.

“You got a card, son, I’ve been calling you ‘suit’ - and worse - in my head.”

He handed over the card, Hunter M. Callahan, Esq. Galacticus, Imperius & Lamont Industries.  _ Industries _ , that was a new addition. 

Rhett left Stevie in charge of cleanup, decontamination and inventory as he followed Suit and Link to the Customs Office to ink the deal. Kevin met them there.

He texted Link after the signatures were inked: You taking a finder’s fee?

Link: Maybe.

Rhett looked up at Link across the table, Link winked.

The ship had been cleared of the crates and Stevie had a list of needed items for Rhett. “Link and his crew will be in here tomorrow afternoon to begin inspections and give me a sense of what we can do around here. If you could collect crew suggestions during dinner, that’d be great. I’ll be off ship so people can feel they can be as honest as possible. Call me when it’s done, tell Josh to save me some grub.”

Rhett climbed into his truck, took it out, not paying attention to where he was going - or so he told himself - and “found” himself in the area of Link’s apartment. He drove around the area, a lot had changed - though quite obviously upscale, it was still annoyingly for quaint. There was a flower shop now. A bell tinkled as he opened the door.

“How does a flower shop stay in business these days?” He asked the woman at the counter.

She gave him a rueful smile, “A mix of 3d printing, some greenhouse and a lot of drugs. What’re you in here for?”

“Flowers, what’s the most organic ones ya got?”

“I’ve got some daisies, carnations, good old roses and I can print some stuff for ya too.”

“Yeah, give me a bouquet of pinks, yellows and oranges. Throw in some leaves and some of those little white things - baby’s breath?”

“You got it.”

Rhett messaged Link.

> Rhett: You around?
> 
> Link: At home, why?
> 
> Rhett: I’m in the area. Dinner?
> 
> Link: You left quick. 
> 
> Link: Sure -- Christy’s doing some wedding stuff. She might actually like me out of her hair. 
> 
> Rhett: I’m at the flower shop.

Link was over in 15 minutes. Dark grey jogging pants, sneakers, and a hoodie. His hair was a bit disheveled, glasses were in his hair, and he was eating a banana. 

“You getting your potassium up for me, bo?” Rhett joked.

Link rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

The clerk came out with the flowers and Rhett paid. He pulled an orange daisy from the bunch and handed it to Link. “Hold the door open for me would ya?”

Rhett placed the flowers in the trunk and held the passenger open for Link. “My crew is having a team dinner from which I excused myself so they could discuss ship wishes. What’s good grub around here?”

“There’s a seafood place not too far.”

“Well then, plug ‘er in,” Rhett motioned to the dashboard.

They drove in silence, Rhett drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Link fidgeting with the banana peel in his lap. Rhett opted for self-park, knowing they could get away from the eyes of cameras somewhat in the darkened lot. Rhett found a secluded spot in a blind spot and parked head first. 

Link cleared his throat, “Hey, so my wedding’s coming up and since you’re back...”

They  _ had _ said friends. It had been  _ his _ idea. Friends  _ did _ go to other friends’ weddings. “Link.”

“It’s in a couple days. You’re grounded anyway.” 

“Link.”

“We said friends. How can I spend time with you if you don’t show your face.”

“Link! You think I want to sit there and watch you marry someone else?”

“Rhett, please? It’ll be a fight every time I go see you. Every time I get a message from you. Do you want that? For me to have to choose?” Link reached out and scratched at his beard. Hadn’t he already made his choice. This was his choice. He’d made it pretty darn quick. 

“It would be like that anyway. If she knows anything about our history.”

“She knows as much as she needs to know, Buns.”

Meaning he’d downplayed the past and laid heavily on the present. The drinking. Funny, because it had been months since he’d had a drink, and weeks since he’d needed the pills, he was officially being weaned off.

“You can bring a date?”

“I’ll bring Stevie.”

“No Stevie will bring Cassie. You will bring a date.”

“Link.”

“What about that Josh fella?”

“It’ll send the wrong message.”

“It’ll send the right message, he’ll be so into it, so into you. C’mon I’m not blind. I saw him that day. And you, you looked everywhere but him. And he commsed you and you tripped over yourself to get the first word in, uugh and audio only. Rhett. Honey. I know you.” He tugged at the hairs then. Rhett winced and bit at his fingers.

“It’ll look like I’m trying to make you jealous.”

“Then.... don’t do anything to make me jealous.” Link growled, voice thick.

“Link.”

Link’s hand creeped down, his neck, chest, belly, settling there. Ever so close.

“Don’t do anything to make me jealous.”

“It’s destination. This place called Atlantis on Tryerion. You’ll like it. It’s got our kind of vibes, and some of Christy’s vibes.”

“I don’t go off planet unless I’m on my ship.”

“Your ship is grounded. You’ll come with us.”

“And how will I get back?”

“You’ll come back with us too. Our honeymoon’s not for a while. She’s pregnant.”

So that was it. It wasn’t the money or the stability or that she was anyone who wasn’t Rhett. It’s that she wanted children. And just as badly as Link from the looks of it. 

“Well congrat-“

Link clapped his hand over Rhett’s mouth, and climbed into his lap, straddling his legs. Rhett pulled the seat back. “Don’t you say it, don’t you fucking say it. I know how your mind works. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m...” There were tears in his eyes. 

“Link, it’s okay. You want kids.”

“I wanted our kids, Rhett.”

“We’d been over this.”

“People change their minds, Rhett. You’re still building something, still searching for something. And you’re younger. I figure once you find it, you’ll soften your stance.”

“That’s a big if. That’s a big bet. Too much pressure on us, Link. That much expectation breeds resentment. I’m okay with this, Link. I promise. And if I can be in his or her life, see a little you fall in love with the world all over again, that’s fantastic.”

“Twins,” he smiled through the tears. 

“Twins,” Rhett hugged him tight, could feel him shake as his cry deepened, his neck wet with his boy’s tears. He rubbed Link’s back, laced fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and pulled gently. Massaging his neck.

“Hey, did you know people didn’t always use to kiss,” the same fact he’d dropped that night he’d psyched himself up to finally kiss Link. “Some say it started in India. Sure, Eskimos touch noses,” he’d said then as he was saying now, giving Link’s nose a nudge with his own. “We can thank imperialism for bringing kissing to us.” He scoffed. 

Link settled his head on Rhett’s other shoulder. “What’s your plan, Link. Or what you can tell me of it. Because something tells me CP was just the beginning. You’re moving on with your life, and seems like you want me to as well, but here we are.”

“Rhett, just give me more time. That’s all I can say. Can you do that? Can I be the one to ask you to do the seemingly unreasonable thing? Can it be my turn? Can you trust me with the uncertainty? Can you? Please?” He sniffled into Rhett’s chest. “Can you just hold me? Make me feel small.” He rolled his hips gently, teasing. “Like only you can?”

Rhett flushed at that, his ears burned red. 

Link changed topics, again. “We leave tomorrow, noon. Is that enough time? Christy keeps a card on file at the Bloomingdales and Nordstrom at the mall by Battery Park, get your crew some digs. Wheels up, two nights, arrive just after breakfast, sightseeing then rehearsal dinner, next day is free, everyone relax, do their thing. Day after is the ceremony in the afternoon, dinner and dancing, last day free, checkout at 3, wheels up at 6.”

And so it was settled.


	5. Smug Sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Josh/Rhett smut, fun and games aboard the ship hurtling toward Link’s destination wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You - Black Kids, Graves - The Color and Sound

It wasn’t the promised debauchery, but it  _ was _ a free vacation. Stevie didn’t take much convincing. A chance for her and her gal to dress up real nice like and sip tropical bevs on a beach? Who in their right mind would pass that up? Rhett left out the part that they’d be trapped on a ship with Link and his blushing bride. And he repurposed the just because flowers into ‘thank you for tagging along to my ex’s shotgun wedding’ flowers. Stevie’s choice whether to then turn those into ‘hey cassie, come with me to my boss’s ex’s shotgun wedding’ flowers. 

Josh was also game. Knowing Rhett’s history with Link - but not about their new arrangement - he acquiesced. Didn’t even need coaxing. Though Rhett vowed to show him his appreciation. And the shopping trip wasn’t bad, all told. Sure, Rhett was tall as heck, but he was slim, and it was Bloomies after all - the crème de la crème did not buy off the rack sans alterations. So the store could accommodate his gangliness. The gang browsed Nordstrom and a few other shops, then grabbed sushi while they waited for alterations. All told they did some damage to Christy’s card but when your family basically ran the entire galaxy from the shadows, and treated every currency, planet, mineral and race like jewels in Smaug’s lair, the chump change some interplanetary crewmen spent on your wedding were probably pennies in the proverbial bucket. They returned to the ship to shower and dress for their passage. There were a couple cars waiting for them already. Rhett chatted up the lead driver, promising to hurry. Inviting them inside the ship to watch TV, take a leak and eat snacks while they waited. Micah ushered them along while his crew raced to shower, pack and change.

Rhett and Stevie took a last look around and debriefed Chase. No construction would start while Rhett was away. 

The wedding ship was smaller than Rhett expected, owing to the fact that it was a luxury passenger craft and not the war machines or cargo crafts Rhett was used to helming. When he looked at it that way, maybe it was bigger than it should be. Transit would take two nights, including tonight. Link’s assistant led the crew to a three-room suite. Rhett passed the first test when he gave Stevie and Cassie the bigger room with the en-suite bathroom inside, and the second test when he pulled Josh behind him into the room across from them. After the crew settled in - the last to arrive - they were summoned to the dining hall. Rhett - ever the Captain - went in search of the control room to introduce himself to the Captain. Checking out the control room and the captain would calm his nerves. Putting a name and face to the person into whose hands he was entrusting his life would go a ways to abating his anxiety. Just his luck it was someone he’d seen combat with, Reid Smith, now Captain Smith. 

“Got yourself a plush little gig here, eh Cap? This is a cute little puddle jumper,” he joked. “You like taking richies on their luxury getaways to beachy moon resorts?” 

“Pays the bills. Keeps me in furs and fat diamonds. Just like I like.” He retorted, throwing some swank and a drawl in to his voice.

“Fancy boy!” Rhett brought him into a hug. 

“Fancy indeed. Fancy seeing you here. Wasn’t the groom your guy.”

Rhett rubbed the back of his neck, “Ancient history!” He swatted, aiming for noncommittal. 

“F’ya say so,” Smith chuckled.

“Ha! Well, just came to see ya, Captain to Captain. Veni, vidi...” he motioned toward the door, “Leave-y!”

Back at the dining hall a toast was in progress. Rhett smiled to find his crew was at the table closest to the door, quick exit if need be. Rhett slipped into the seat next to Josh, his hand on Josh’s back, and scanned the room. Everyone else was in travel clothes, athletic wear, leggings, hoodies. They were not out of place.

There was an amazing spread, make-your-own burgers. His table passed around the accoutrements and made pleasant conversation. After dessert was laid- an assortment of sweet pastries, ice creams and sweet wine -Cassie leaned over and whispered something to Stevie. Stevie signaled to Rhett and when he was given the all clear to look over his shoulder they could see that the bride and groom were making their rounds. Stevie mouthed to Rhett, “are you ready?” Rhett shook his head, ‘no.’ She motioned for everyone to make dessert to-go plates and grabbed a bottle of wine. As surreptitiously as possible, the crew slipped out of the room one by one. Rhett was last, he turned over his shoulder and made eye contact with Link. He was always the tallest man in any room, he could never make a covert exit. It was more about providing cover for his crew, so they wouldn’t feel any wrath. He gave Link a half smile and clasped his hands over his heart, walking backwards out of the door. Link nodded.

Maybe he’d be ready to congratulate them by breakfast, but right then it was sinking in just what the heck he was doing and where they were going. 

Rhett only caught about half the movie and what he did see of it was only in dribs and drabs. He nestled up to Josh on the couch and fell asleep on his tummy and lap. He woke up to Josh playing in his hair, trying to gently get his attention. Josh leaned down closer to Rhett and whispered, “Having you down there is distracting in a nice way, but you asleep doing all that distracting is just torture, man. It’s killing me.” Rhett smiled up at Josh. “So you can understand my predicament.”

“Sure, but you don’t know torture, my friend. That’s not torture.” Oh the look of mischief on his face, his furrowed brows, the dark look in his eyes. Josh’s eyebrows flew up as Rhett rolled over onto his belly, rolling his neck, shoulders, lower back and stretched legs. He propped himself on his elbows and signaled Josh to press play on his movie. He palmed Josh through his sweats before guiding him out and playing with him, languorously. Languid strokes, lackadaisical pace - almost cruelly slow. Josh scrunched his toes, his legs kicking out, toes flexing and furling as he concentrated, trying to keep his moans and grunts quiet. Rhett moving tight-fisted and excruciatingly slow and calculated. Now two hands, mouth applying suction and the faintest nibbles at the tip. Sometimes he’d take it all in and gag, spit it back out just to slurp it back up, making smacking sounds, burbles and pops, a cacophony of all the dirty, filthy sounds and sensations that make Josh whimper and tremble, begging him to take this inside the room. Rhett shushing him, reminding him that his crewmate and her girlfriend were just beyond that door. That he could cum and this would all be over, why wasn’t he cumming yet, hmm? Mischief in his tone. He could cum. He should cum, and his torture would be over. Rhett was giving him a handjob and blowjob after all. What was the problem?

Josh was delirious, “You’re like the fucking Cheshire Cat, right now,” Josh hissed. “You know what you’re doing. You’re feigning helpful.” He tried to fuck into Rhett’s mouth, Rhett let him and let him slide out with another wet pop. “Fuck.” Josh whined, a little too loudly. He was losing it.

Rhett hopped up, grabbed the remote from Josh and turned the TV volume down, but not off. They would need the grey noise. He pulled Josh up to standing and pushed him toward the room, his hard, leaking cock up and out like a popped spring. His hands keeping his sweats up as he waddled toward the room. The sight was so filthy and absurd. Rhett slapped his ass. Josh hissed. 

Rhett pushed Josh down onto the bed and pulled off his pants and underwear. He grabbed some lube from his bag, primed his fingers and resumed his languid pace, with added attention below. A crook of his fingers, tight quick tugs and faster pace and Josh was mewling into a pillow then groaning as he came HARD. Thick, hard spurts hit the roof of Rhett’s mouth. He swished his tongue around the head and licked from root to tip before Josh got twitchy and overstimulated. He peeled his own clothes off and started on himself. 

“Fuck me, Josh.”

Josh laid back on the bed, watching Rhett. “Slower strokes.” Josh commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett smirked. He did as he was told. Josh played with himself a little. 

“Hey, come sit on my face.”

He climbed up, Josh lapped at his hole, burrowed in one finger then two, crooking here and there, pressure and stretch. “Hop on.”

Rhett moved down his body, easing him in, Josh scooted them up so he could lean against the pillows, Rhett using his shoulders for leverage as he took him deeper. They exchanged praise, Rhett picked up the pace, Josh moved the pillows from under him, laid back and brought his legs up, planted his feet so he could fuck up into Rhett. “Mmmmh, fuuuuck, yes right there!” Rhett moaned, “right there.” He went stiff as Josh fucked into him, he arched his back and threw his head back. Josh pulled him down into a kiss, picking up the pace. They grunted and groaned into each other’s mouths as they came. Rhett stayed there for a moment, pulsing against Josh, milking him. He could go for some cum eating but didn’t want to scare Josh. He had become a little more forceful with him as of late and Josh was becoming more assertive too. He didn’t want to scare him. Link liked it a little rougher than most at times, but Rhett was reminding himself this wasn’t Link. This was Josh. They had their own lexicon and limits together. He had to respect that. And respect the spice that Josh brought. 

“That was good,” Rhett breathed into Josh’s neck. “Thank you for letting me torture you a little bit,” he kissed along his jaw and around his neck and chest, “Don’t know if you’re into that or not. I know we have a legit power dynamic so further power play might not be best for us but, I couldn’t help it. Sometimes I just want to fuck your smug little foodie mouth, and that has nothing to do with power, you know. Just that you like good things, and you like me. It throws me sometimes. Like this guy is a fucking chef, one of the best palates in the galaxy, and he likes this meatbag of bones?” Fuck, too vulnerable, too real.

“I get it,” Josh flipped them over, still inside of Rhett. So strong, this one. Gosh. Rare for someone to be handling Rhett like the fuck toy. He liked it. Not wanting to move. Oh, they were so nasty. He nipped at Rhett’s shoulder, a nipple. “Thanks for closing some of that distance, you know? You’ve kept me at arms length a little bit. Glad to be getting closer to the real you, and you’re asking for and taking what you want. I don’t mind.” He hooked one arm under Rhett’s leg and pinned it back. Josh was up on his knees now. “And you know a little of how I like it, don’t you. When I fuck you, I like to get a little rough.” Up went the other leg. Fuck. “You don’t mind, do you?” That smug motherfucker. The sarcasm. The oozing sarcasm. “Right? He rocked into him. And he heard a little bit of evidence from their last round squelch out. “Been a while since anyone called me smug.” He snapped his hips. “Since you called me smug.” Snap. 

“That was the time we were entertaining a potential patron, right?” 

“Yup. I blew the budget on wagyu and those pork chops. Remember those?” Rhett grabbed a pillow and Josh released his legs so he could support himself to raise his back off the bed and jam the pillow under there. Support and more leverage. Josh was a leg guy. And if Rhett had anything, it was legs. A whole lotta legs. “And my sous nearly cooked the pork to shit.” Another snap. “Who’d’ve thunk, right! He was a fucking pork guy. I’d poached him from a damn barbecue joint because you,” stroke, “love,” stroke, “barbecue.” He gripped Rhett’s legs.  _ Fuck, he loved barbecue.  _ Josh kissed his calves, stroked up and down. Rhett laughed, covered his face. “Move your hands!” Stroke. 

“And I had to save it; quick thinking. He was gonna dry out my pork. You saw my technique that day, didn’t you, huh?” Stroke. “You saw me jump into action.” Stroke. “Take control.” Stroke, a snap of the hips, a curve upward, right there.

“Fuck, yes. Yes.” Rhett whimpered. Couldn’t get words out. Couldn’t find the rhythm. Now he was unraveling. His back arched, fingers gripping Josh’s waist, nails in skin. 

“But I nearly burned the sauce because of it.” Stroke. “So what do you do, huh? You jump in!” Stroke. “You take over.” He pushed Rhett’s legs back down, hands on the back of his thighs, knees damn near close to his ears. Josh picked up the pace, long strokes, a snap at the end. Thwack of his balls. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to. I tried to he- help...fuuuuulllll.” Rhett hissed. “Oh god, right there.” Josh slowed. His story wasn’t over. So this wasn’t over. Rhett could not come yet. Torture. Returning the favor. 

“But you got in there. Went into my kitchen. My,” stroke, “fucking,” stroke, “kitchen.” Snap of the hips. He let one leg fall and gripped Rhett’s cock. Rhett hooked the leg around Josh’s waist. Slow strokes. He was good. He liked this. “And said my sauce was convoluted. Convoluted!” A little loud. All that ego. 

Rhett slapped his side and hissed. “Shh!” 

Bad idea. Josh increased the speed, breakneck. Fucked into him so hard and deep and fast the bed shook and they got a few pounds out of the headboard. Stevie and Cassie were sure to have heard that, even across the suite. “Fuck!” Josh wailed. And that too! Rhett clamped his hands over his mouth and moaned. “I’m coming.” He moaned. He rode it out, coming once more as Josh released his legs, Rhett came with his hands around his cock and the sensation of Josh’s cum spilling out of him. They spot cleaned the duvet cover and crept out of the suite to shower. Back in the room Rhett cuddled Josh.

“The sauce was convoluted,” he nudged Josh, “But the flavor was good. One would say you’ve perfected it many times over the years.”

“Thank you.”

“You could bottle it. I’m serious.”

“Stop messing with me.”

“I’m serious. Call it Smuggies. The smug chef’s smug sauce for smug meat. Smild, Smedium, Smicy and Smextreme!” They cackled. 


	6. What's got two thumbs and a big ol' crush?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That dark-haired woman from chapter 1 makes an appearance, she knows the happy couple… and Rhett!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: The Suffering - Coheed & Cambria, Hurricane - Luke Combs

The next morning Josh and Rhett made it to breakfast just as the kitchen was firing its last batch of flapjacks and eggs. They piled their plates and sauntered over to the table about to be vacated by Cassie and Stevie.

“How’d you guys sleep last night?” Rhett asked, a twinkle in his eye. 

“We couldn’t hear anything if that’s what you’re asking.” Stevie smiled knowingly. “Cassie sleeps with this killer white noise machine. For all we knew we were already at the beach.”

“Great.”

“No need to ask you the same then, huh?” Stevie winked. 

Rhett looked over to Josh, not sure if he and Stevie had this kind of rapport. Stevie had been with him since the beginning, had gotten a lot of power early - she was responsible with it - and her relationship with each crew member was her own. He’d never considered how being more apparent about his relationship with Josh would affect them and their dynamic. But if Link had picked up on something from one meal, maybe it had already been apparent. Still, he would talk to her. All his worrying was for naught though, Josh was grinning!

The gang spent the day in their suite, watching movies and playing video games. They ended up napping on the couches through lunch and around 2:30 Josh went to the kitchen to beg for snacks, Chef to Chef. “I ran into Christy.” Josh deadpanned when he came back through the doors. “She said we should sit at their table during dinner.” 

“Is she SERIOUS?” Stevie shouted. “It’s not enough you’re captive on this ship, now she wants you captive at her table.”

“Stevie, we should talk.” Rhett grabbed her hand and guided her to the vacant room. Not entirely sure what state he and Josh’s room was in. He closed the door. “Josh and I are not at double date level. I don’t think we ever will be. To be honest. I don’t think I have it in me and I feel like he’d be okay with that, but that’s not the conversations we’re having.”

“Sure, I get that. I mean, Josh and I talk. Partly because I’m the closest thing to HR around here, partly because it’s you and partly because one of Cassie’s friends asked me to put in a good word at a party and Josh just sorta blurted some stuff out.”

“Uh huh,” Rhett said, not scowling, but emoting er- intently. Trying to put some things together. “Uh, when was this?”

“Couple weeks before this last run. After our last loop run for Sachs industries, after Gazo.” 

“He said something like you and him had been flirting for weeks after your breakup with Link. Nothing too serious. Seemed like you were following his lead so he finally just went for it and the two of you had gone at it like rabbits for a few days and you’d made him physically leave the ship so the two of you could get some air. He stayed with me. You stayed at the place in your office.”

“Yup.”

“Rhett, he’s fully okay with being the rebound. It might even be all he’s in it for. Some people like that. You don’t need to make him any promises you don’t intend to keep. That’s one of your things, you know? I’m authorized to tell you that. As your second in command and as your friend, and sometimes beard.”

Rhett chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Monosyllabrhett. My favorite. Earth to Rhett. You said we should talk. Speak, boy!” She slapped her knees.

Rhett growled. “Fine. I now know where you stand. He shouldn’t be at that table. Would Cassie mind if I stole you for tonight. Would it be treading on all her goodwill and understanding?”

“Let me worry about Cass.”

They returned to the suite commonspace, polished off the rest of the spread and went looking for the gym or something. The cred had been holed up in that suite for too long. In the lounge area, people were playing cards, pong and cornhole. Never one to back down from a game of beer pong, and an absolute, verified beast at it, Josh pulled Rhett to the table and called next. They racked up and Rhett subbed out half of their cups with fresh ones filled with water. 

They were up against pros, but eventually bested them. “Any takers!?” Josh called. 

“Us!” Rhett heard Link’s voice and whipped around. Link had Christie’s hand in his, she had a little veil over her head and trailing down her back, a white legging and sports bra set, white sneakers and a bride sash. 

“You’re on!” Rhett challenged, jokingly. To give Link some cover he said, “we swapped out my cups for water instead of beer. Not sure how much you two have been partying, you want the boozehound treatment?”

Link and Christy shared a look, Link nodded. And turned to Rhett. Surprised, though when Christy ran to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping him in a hug and slapping a wet kiss on his cheek. “He told you!” She whisper-yelled into his ear. 

Rhett gave her a sheepish smile. 

“Aw you’re so sweet Rhett! Thank you for keeping that between us.”

“Far as I’m concerned only three people in this room know.” 

She smiled. “Rack ‘me up! Jessie!! Jessie!! Where’s my maid of honor to come hold my veil!”

Rhett could have kicked himself when the person who responded to that name was the leggy brunette from the bar. She stumbled in, bleary-eyed. The cutest little shorts and sports bra set in a floral pattern. Her hair up in two pigtails stuck through the slits in a cap that said MAID OF HONOR in jewels. “Um here, um here, stop shoUTING!” She sputtered at her friend. She hiccup-burped and locked her unsteady gaze on Rhett.

“I know you?” She asked, pointing at him, jabbing him in the chest. 

Rhett nodded and smiled. She winked. “Ok good.” How had he missed her the night before when he‘d done a scan of the room?

De-veiled, Christy began to rack. Rhett poured the water for them while Josh poured out beers. Team Jett trolloped the bride and groom, Team Crink. 

“Let’s make it interesting, best two out of three,” Christy challenged.

Rhett checked in with Josh. He put his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “How you doin’? You hanging in there? Wanna fill the cups less?”

“I’m still good, way good. Big breakfast and big lunch.”

“Alright, rack em’!” Rhett called over his shoulder. Second game they went a bit easy on the bride and groom. Let them win. Rhett tried to slow down the pace, to gauge how drunk Josh was getting. Drinks hit differently on terra forma than they did hurtling through space. Josh seemed fine so they continued with game three. Rhett swapped out even more cups with water and cut the ones that did have beer with water. He urged Link to do the same. They trounced them again. Josh was so good sober that he was a veritable idiot savant drunk. Rhett knew it was such a point of pride for Josh that he didn’t want to risk the wrath of not pulling his weight for something that important to the guy. Link took it like a champ. “Rematch on the beach,” he offered. They gave up the table and new competitors took over.

Rhett and Stevie joined Stevie and Cassie at cornhole and played a couple rounds before the announcement that dinner would be laid in 45 minutes. The room cleared out and the crew headed to their suite to shower. 

Dinner was almost uneventful. The bride and groom were flanked by Jessie and her date to Christy’s left, the best man and his date to Link’s right, and Rhett and Stevie across from the bride and groom. The conversation was pleasant, mostly Stevie and Rhett fielding questions as the newest addition to the wedding party’s table. It was the mention of karaoke that did it. That flipped the switch in Jessie’s mind.

“Oh my god yes! That’s where I know you from. You were in my bar one night!”

“Yeah,” Rhett shook his head. 

“Christy, that’s the guy,” Jessie slurred into Christy’s ear. 

Christy’s eyes went so wide and she smiled wide. Her friend had filled her in on all the sordid details of their night. Oh boy had they been juicy! Dirty blonde captain fella comes into her bar. The bar she’d just bought and re-done. Left high and dry when one of her girls became too inebriated to work and broke a bottle of her Reserve Gin she would never be able to pay her back for. Anyway, he’s all tall and smiley, ordering drinks for everyone, a Sprite for himself. Ushering people out to taxis, taking their phones and erasing the draft comms they planned to send to exes. He made sure tabs got paid and that she was tipped well. He hadn’t known she was the owner. Played with her hair. Asked her about herself. She liked the clip of his accent, his big gentle hands, how much of him there was. She caught him noticing her cleavage, keeping it on full display. Shaking her little butt in time with the music whenever she walked away to serve another patron. 

“Oh honey, he’s here with someone now, though. And the whole table can hear you baby doll.” Christy tried to quiet her friend.

“I know, shhhh,” Jessie, again, the whole table. Rhett smiled.

“And besides, that’s Link’s ex.” The look Christy gave him had just a flash of pity, he knew her secret, and vowed to her to keep it. But she had to show her claws somehow. It was only right. Rhett got that.

He put his hands on Stevie’s leg to quiet her down. Could see her leg hopping up and down under the table. She drained her glass and poured more of the wine. Rhett pulled the glass just out of her reach when she set it down again.

He finally dared to look at Link, who if he knew anything about the story from his bride could put timelines together. Maybe. He was safe from Link’s fiery gaze, only because it was burning into Jessie. Which wasn’t fair - he’d pursued the heck out of Jessie that night. He did the captainly thing.

“Jessie, maybe we should catch up, huh? Maybe grab a bite?” 

Her date draped a hand over her shoulder, a little too late for the blatantly possessive gesture. Jessie was all in. She’d started this! Ever the messy drunk, she leaned across the table. “I’d looooooove that.” She crashed back against her seat, slumping devil may care, instructing her date to feed her the dessert. She seemed like a riot and a half. She and Rhett could have some fun. 

Christy clapped her hands gleefully, “Oh, I love it.”

“Don’t you love it Linky?” She nudged him. “Guess he’s is the guy I told you she hooked up with. They didn’t exchange numbers. He paid for his stuff in loose creds. And he never went back to the bar!” It made sense to her now, she bopped her head with the heel of her hand. “Duh, cuz that was your last night in town, Rhett! Captain McLaughlin!” Too much.

Link slapped his hands on the table. “Welp, I’m beat.”

“Oh, c’mon Link, stay, I like learning about Rhett. And who knows, the sex between them is enough to have her droning on and on about it for months, we could be at their wedding this time next year. Oh I would love that!” 

“Mmhmm, yup, fun,” Link quipped through tight lips, dumping his his pie into a bowl of ice cream, topping it off with more ice cream and some rum for good measure. He kissed Christy on the top of the head and left the dining hall. 

Rhett and Stevie took their desserts to go as well, made their excuses to the rest of the table and went to find their dates. They trooped back to the lounge and passed the rest of the night playing Twister, Uno and corn hole. Josh bowed out at the mention of starting up a game of Monopoly. He squeezed Rhett’s shoulder and bade everyone goodnight. They were just finished setting up the game, Rhett counted out the money and slipped $200 under ‘Go,’ and $500 underneath the Jail square when Link walked in. A huge bottle of water in one hand and some coffee in the other. He sat in the vacant seat near Rhett and slapped the table for a deal-in. The game was fun if not long and not surprisingly Cassie cleaned up. Link was dead on his feet when they stood to leave and Rhett offered to guide him to his room, despite the abject protests from Stevie and Cassie. He swatted them away and wrapped his arms around Link’s waist. “Up,” he groaned as the smaller man leaned his weight into him. 

“I think I heard you and Josh the other night...” Fuck. 

“Uh-“

“S’okay. I uh... I think I’m a- uh, a glutton for punishment.”

“Didn’t mean to disturb. Honest. I guess we were so worried if our suite mates could hear us we didn’t consider the people on the other side of our wall when it got-.”

Link nodded, way too hard, and slumped against the wall, nearly taking Rhett down with him. He steadied them, stood up straighter, tightening his hold on Link. “Not like y’all were loud, I just could pick your voice out of a line up. Still.” He looked up at Rhett. Searching his face for a moment. “That, I was expecting. I told you to bring him. But Jessie...” he sucked air in through pursed lips and blew a raspberry.

“Obviously I didn’t know who she was or that she’d be here. What are even are the odds of that?.”

“Do you know how much I know about that night, Rhett?” Link pushed him away and slumped against the wall. “Every minuscule detail. What you smelled like, how you touched her, what buttons you pressed, your eye color, the hair, the feel of your skin, the teasing, how you got a little rough but not scary. How she’s been riding that wave all this time. Now that I think about it her date kind of looks like you - a mop of curly hair and a beard!”

“Link.” The nerve of this man, marrying a curly headed blond with hazelish eyes and a killer with if not a mean streak.

“But that’s still not even the worst part, Rhett.” He zeroed his eyes on Rhett and sloppily pointed a finger. “D’you wanna know what the worst part is?”

“You’re treading on some thin ice partner. You’re going from a glass house to thin ass ice. You sure those fragile structures can take another heaping spoonful of your hypocritical bullshit!” He spat, in a whisper yell. “You’re allowed to move on and fall ass backward into marriage AND fatherhood and I’m just supposed to pine for the rest of my life? What the fuck?”

“She can’t have you.”

Rhett was incredulous; stunned. “What?”

“She. Can. NOT. Have. You.” Link folded his arms and slumped down the wall, down into a sitting position, arms still crossed, elbows resting on his knees. 

Rhett blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, I won’t allow it. You can’t see her, can’t have sex with her again, don’t even entertain it. She’ll move on.” Link turned his head, averting his eyes.

“Link, what? What if I like her.”

“No, first I gotta watch your buff little chef genius wunderkind fucking worship the literal ground you walk on and hear y’all fuck each other’s brains out as we hurtle toward MY WEDDING.” Pfft. Exaggeration. “And now you’re telling me I gotta watch Christy’s drunk best friend eye fuck you over dinner with her date 5 inches from her face. And! And! I just know Christy and Jessie are up to something so y’all can have a round two. As if I haven’t heard every detail about round one for the past few months. No.”

“Link, that’s not your decision.”

“You can’t have all three of us. Cixi.”

“Oh ho ho ho, I don’t have all three of you, Link. Cixi.” He threw his hands up. This guy really has freaking lost it. “I barely have the one. And I don’t want three, Linky.” Using Christy’s little pet name. “Remember that conversation? I just want the one. The one standing in front of me, moping. Making demands. Stringing me along. Keeping me on the back burner. I’m not good enough for him though. Except sometimes he forgets and lets me do dirty things to him. To fuck with his mind him a little - push his limites. Leave little bruises all over his body. Make him feel things. So he can let off steam before going back to pomade and expensive suits and lush, furtive government contracts. You know that guy? Huh? Any idea who I’m talking about?” 

Link pursed his lips… and shook his head, an almost miniscule gesture if not for Rhett being able to read him so well. 

Rhett’s eyes widened, “Oh no!” So I’m just standing in this hallway talking to myself then, huh? Haven’t touched a drink in literal months so it can’t be withdrawals.” He dug into his most molasses-slow exaggerated drawl, “Ah shit, I done went crazy now. My goose done flew the coop. Well, I hope whoever all I’s just wasn’t talking ter gets to their room right safe. Must be some specters on this shippy ship, bwoy!”


	7. Sak pase? N'ap boule! or Belly full but still hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food and the beach and Sam R Delaney and Jessie/Rhett dates!  
> Samuel R Delaney wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_R._Delany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Oh Devil - Electric Guest; Thnks fr th Mmrs- Fall Out Boy, Lying is the most fun - Panic! At The Disco + bonus songs throughout.

The ship was set to dock just after breakfast so the crew packed and wheeled their bags to the dining hall with them. Passing the cockpit Rhett poked his head in, thanking the captain for a smooth flight. He asked him where they were off to next.

“We’re staying local. Been bought out for the whole week, made plans to fuel up, clean and restock and we’ll see you all back here in a few days.”

“Man if we see you around let me buy you a drink?”

“Sounds good, Cap. And if you get here before departure, I’ll give you a tour.”

“Sweet. I wanna get into the nooks and crannies of this bad boy.”

They shook hands and Rhett jogged to catch up with the rest of his crew. 

The spread was a bit lighter this morning: fruit, nuts and granola, scones, biscuits, clotted cream, fruit compote. Josh was ecstatic reading the assortment of flavors. “Ginger peach! Apple streusel! They even did an herbaceous-sweet lemon verbena.”

The crew was in good spirits during breakfast and the ride to the hotel. They met more members of the wedding party and passed the time in light, comfortable conversation. The first thing Rhett noticed after they’d settled into their rooms was the lanai. He and Josh and Stevie and Cassie were in adjoining rooms that shared a lanai. There was a little bagel, cream cheese and fish spread that they all tucked into as they changed into more outdoorsy gear for the hike and sightseeing ahead of them. When the foursome met the rest of the party in the lobby they agreed that they wanted to be part of the crew that hiked first, then took in the sights, ending on the beach. 

The views from the mountain were breathtaking, they hiked up the dedicated trail and ziplined down. The Sprinter van waiting for them at the bottom was air conditioned and a welcome reprieve from the balmy heat. Josh and Rhett sat in the back so they could stretch their legs and dozed in the sun as the bus bumped along the road to the metropole. 

They walked through ancient temples and learned about the planet’s older belief systems, sampled spicy meats and a variety of cheeses, yogurts and kefirs made from the local livestock. Their favorite parts were the buttery breads and pastries. To snack on while at the beach they purchased some cheeses they really liked. The first keju api or fire cheese, a bit spicy, with a tang and a low creamy note and the other, keju bantal or pillow cheese - a hard shell cheese with a gooey core that tasted buttery and herby. They were made in the style of Malaysian yak cheeses of long ago and so had Malaysian names. There were also Creole cheeses, French style for the hob-knobby sort (mòde zwazo - bird bite cheese, made in the style of the stinkiest Eppoisses, so called because the best part of the cheese was less than a quarter inch sliver, any further and it would unleash the foulest fumes and fwomaj anpenpan- fancy cheese, reminiscent of Taleggio, stinky exterior but sweet and tangy underneath.) They bought a few doughy bread loaves wrapped in cloth and climbed back onto the bus. Stevie and Cassie followed with an ornate decorative basket filled with cloths and trinkets. And some sweets to try. The rest of their party piled in and it was onward to the beach for a few hours. The crew stripped down to their swimming attire, applied sunscreen and Zinc. Cassie and Stevie went to play in the water and in search of cold drinks and some spicy meat for the bread and cheese while Josh sunbathed and Rhett read. He’d found the book he’d been babbling about Babel-17, a 1966 sci-fi book that won the Nebula award that year.

“See!” He nudged Josh, rousing him from sleep. Josh muttered and used this as a time to flip over. Rhett read excitedly: 

> “No way to say warm in French. There was only hot and tepid. If there’s no word for it, how do you think about it? And, if there isn’t the proper form, you don’t have the how even if you have the words.” 

He threw his hands up, “that’s what I’m talking about! That’s Sapir-Whorf! How can you communicate something if you don’t have the words for it and can you truly even feel it or know you’re feeling it if you don’t have the words. Sure you may be able to think about it a bit fuzzy but it begs the question at what point does language form. Or, hmm, what am I trying to say? Say we had no word for ocean? How could I communicate that to you. Sure we have water and big and vast but how do I communicate ocean to you. What would you see. Would you believe me that I said there were fish in there? Or, I can do you one better. There’s that anecdote from David Foster Wallace: 

> “There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, "Morning, boys, how's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, "What the hell is water?" 

“Do you see, Josh? What the hell is water? How do you tell little fish that they’re actually suspended in something? That the world has another layer! The way fish think about water must be how we think about space time. Or even oxygen! What age were you when you learned about air! How the Wright Brothers stumbled upon jet streams and now we’ve outgrown the concept....”

“Rhett, you’re rambling. You’ve gone wild eyed!”

Rhett harrumphed and returned to his reading. He tore through the book, though it had been a while since he read it, the more he tucked in the more it came back to him. He was looking for another passage. 

“Josh, Josh, listen to this!: 

> “How far do we go?” she asked, having decided to walk with him, thinking as she spoke: If he doesn’t know the word for “I,” how can he understand “we”?” 

He threw his legs over the side of the beach chair and turned to face Josh. “Concepts build. It’s like the water and the air thing. Can you have a sense of the communal without a sense of the individual or vice versa, or are they even necessary. If this guy can’t even conceptualize a self! I forget who said it but I was listening to an old podcast on this underground app that rips stuff from the mid 2000s and they were talking about how this philosopher was talking about someone looking through the peephole of a door at a couple having sex and in that moment he felt no shame. Just him and this couple, but really just this couple, if you think about it. Because he’s not thinking about himself watching the couple, he just is and they just are. And the only time he feels shame is when someone clears their throat behind him. He didn’t have a concept of himself doing the act, nor did he feel any shame or any sense of wrongdoing until there was the thought or possibility or actual intrusion of someone else!* At what point exactly did he become a voyeur?”

*Hawthorne effect.

Josh nodded, “I get that. Ok, keep going.” Rhett smiled, couldn’t tell if Josh was actually into it or just humoring him.

He read ahead, “Okay. That’s what I was trying to say before: 

> “Sometimes you want to say things, and you’re missing an idea to make them with, and missing a word to make the idea with. In the beginning was the word. That’s how somebody tried to explain it once. Until something is named, it doesn’t exist. And it’s something the brain needs to have exist, otherwise you wouldn’t have to beat your chest, or strike your fist on your palm. The brain wants it to exist. Let me teach it the word.”

"Do you agree?” 

“Yeah. It’s like when my mom taught me to make Mac and cheese casserole when I was younger. You need butter and milk , mix and then fold in flour. Without the flower when you add the cheese you get this oily mess, there’s nothing to bind. I’d been making that my whole life and didn’t know what I was making was called a roux. When my mom taught it to me it was just a step. She didn’t call it roux. Didn’t have to. It was just smooth silky cheese sauce or oily broken mess.”

“But when you got the word for it? Did you tell her?”

“Oh first thing. I messaged her that very day! Learned it in culinary school. In France! I was excited. Mom, there’s a fancy French word for the flour thing. And you know what she told me?” 

“What!” Rhett leaned forward onto his knees. 

“She said uh huh, yeah, I knew that! Food Network. But I didn’t need to tell you the fancy word to teach it to you. What mattered was the why. If I just taught you it was a roux and the fancy French name you would have just done it rote, ‘cause it was the recipe. But I didn’t teach you to cook like that, and when you got into the process of cooking you didn’t do it for the fancy French words, you did it for the why. You want to know the why of things. Why flavors work, why some don’t, what is absolutely necessary, what steps to skip. What to substitute for what. I taught you to seek the why.”

Rhett smiled and squeezed Josh’s knee. “So I guess she wouldn’t agree when Delaney, or rather, the character says, “If you have the right words, it saves a lot of time and makes things easier.” Would she?”

Josh chuckled, “No, she wouldn’t. Not about cooking, at least.

Rhett whooshed his reading screen away and pulled Josh up. Let’s see if we can get in on a game of volleyball or something. They reapplied sunscreen, walked over to a net and signaled to the players that they were interested. 

“We’re just about to finish this game and we’ll re-choose teams,” one of the players called. Her Creole accent thick. Rhett nodded and smiled, leaning his head onto Josh’s shoulder. 

Josh rubbed his back and shoulders. “Make sure you stretch.”

When the teams reset, the boys were in opposing teams. The competition heated up, the boys chiding each other and talking smack. Josh’s team won the first game, Rhett’s the second game. The boys forewent tiebreaker, choosing instead to cool off in the water. Josh was sitting between Rhett’s legs, the pair playing in the sand as the water lapped up to their navels with each ebb and flow when Jessie appeared with Christy.

Rhett introduced them to Josh. Taking in Jessie’s string bikini. A dark orange color that played off her striking brown eyes. Her hair was down her shoulders and flowing, the front cut long to frame her face and then layered down her back. The women sat down beside the pair in the sand and struck up a rather pointed conversation.

“So, how do you know Rhett,” Jessie asked Josh. Christy pinched her, but winked at Rhett. Rhett snaked his hands around Josh, pulling him in closer. Josh reached a hand back, scratching his fingers through Rhett’s curls. 

“I’m the chef on his ship. And I guess technically a Chief Mate or a Lieutenant depending on what we’re doing?” Rhett hummed. 

“And how long have you been together?” Christy asked.

“Oh, we’re not together,” Josh replied. “We’re figuring this out but we’re not exclusive. In fact, I think this is the most words I’ve said to anyone about Rhett and I,” That was a lie. “So... thank you?” Josh turned to look at Rhett, “Would you agree, Rhett?”

“Affirmative, Lieutenant. We have indeed not talked about this, I don’t know who you are, what you’re doing here or what I’m doing here.” They laughed, the girls were less than amused. 

“What about you, Jessie,” Rhett asked. “Who’s the fella you came with.”

“Oh, pfft,” Jessie waved her hand, “He’s a new regular at the bar. I think he works high up at Customs or something super official. Young guy, though, which is weird.” She took her shot, “Rhett and I, you know... and I didn’t expect to see him here or ... I would’ve come alone.” She smiled at Rhett. “Too bold big guy?” she bit her bottom lip. 

Rhett blushed. 

“Wow, very bold. I’m sitting right here, ya know.” Josh joked. “But again, not exclusive. So as long as you don’t chop my hand off to get to him, I won’t stand in your way.”

Rhett pulled Josh back toward him and kissed his shoulder. “That’s...” Don’t say mature. Don’t say mature. Don’t say mature. “... diplomatic. Of you. To say.” Rhett swallowe, the words tumbling out haltingly as he strung them together. “I’m thirsty. Jessie, talk later? What’s your room number?”

“705, maybe? I’ll let you know at dinner. My date knows. I’ve been too drunk to remember!”

“Okay,” Rhett stood and pulled Josh up, “I’m thirsty and I want some cheesy bread!” The boys danced excitedly.

Stevie and Cassie had just tucked into the bread and cheese when they reached the towel. They’d gotten a hot, tomato sauced spicy sausage and a slab of cold salami. Most importantly, they’d scored a knife! The crew tucked into the spread, caught a few more rays before they agreed it was time to head back inside for a nap and shower and to get ready for dinner. Rhett’s back was also screaming for a massage. 

On the walk back Rhett stopped Josh in his tracks and guided his hand to the small of his back. “Can you feel that?” He turned his neck to look at Josh over his shoulder, “right there is throbbing. I’m going to do my stretches but would you mind just like kneading that for me after I shower. The heat’ll really help.” 

Josh dug his thumb into it and Rhett moaned. “Oh yeah,” Josh replied, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ll take care of that for ya!”

A few feet out from them a throat was cleared, “Gentlemen.” Link stood in their path, little turquoise swim trunks that matched Christy’s bikini and a basket in his hand. “Caught enough rays?” He asked, his lips tight.

“Yeah! We’re heading up for naps. Something about the sun, man, zzzzp, takes it right out of me!” 

“Alright, we’ll see y’all at Grandchamps at 7:30. Rehearsal should be done and we’ll be watching the sunset, toasting and then walking up the beach to the restaurant.

“Nice. Gonna get some Haitian and French island food tonight. My belly is ready!”

“Yeah. Should be really good.” Link smiled up at Rhett. They’d done a service learning trip to Haiti in school, and returned again in college and a few times for vacation and with medical trips. Haiti was special to them. Rhett couldn’t help himself.

“This island remind you of Haiti, Link?”

“Yeah, and a little bit of Corsica and Belle-Île where Christy and her parents have houses and some vineyards. We chose it for those inspirations too. But a lot of Haiti, Rhett. You didn’t miss that. I love Haiti.” Rhett was sure there was a message for him in there. It hurt him too much to go looking for it now, but it was there.

Back at the room Rhett stretched and showered. Josh was asleep when he got out of the shower so he laid out on his yoga mat to try and appease his back. When the alarm trilled Josh awoke and patted the bed, searching for Rhett. “Rhett,” he whispered. 

“Down here.” Rhett called.

“Right. You want your massage down there?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Josh pulled on a pair of underwear and straddled Rhett. He poured some of Rhett’s oil blend into his palm and heated it between his hands. He started at the shoulders, and moved his way down to just above the inflamed area, then massaged his glutei. Rhett hissed and moaned as Josh kneaded and pressed. Warming up his back, closing in on his problem area. His hands were nimble and deft. He applied more oil, the tingle of the peppermint working deep under his heated palms. Rhett dozed, the pleasure and pain so good, feeling himself relaxing as his back released. 

“You want a massage too, Josh?”

“Sure.” 

Rhett thanked him and they switched places. Josh way more vocal during his massage. Rhett incorporated his arms and legs into the deal. “Whew, I feel like jello!” Josh breathed, his eyes hooded, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed. “I feel so good right now. About to eat some good food. Beautiful man.” He reached up and scratched at Rhett’s beard. Pulling him down into a kiss. They washed their hands and toweled off any excess oil from their backs. They’d opted for matching white linen shirt and short sets. The shorts a bit shorter than they remembered. Stevie wore a tan dress that hugged her curves and stopped just below the knee. The slit along her thigh was flanked with sequins that gave the dress a pop. Her hair was slicked behind one ear and ran in loose ringlets down the other shoulder. Cassie wore high waisted trousers that flared from the knee and a tan glittery crop top bralette with lace detailing under a gauzy shawl around her shoulders. Her short blond bob framed her face. Both women wore a red lipstick. 

“Ooh, my crew cleans up so nice,” Stevie marveled. The foursome headed down to the beach. 

As the sun slipped lower down the horizon, the wedding party toasted and drank to the happy couple. Though Rhett was on a lower - almost negligible - dose of his pills and as such had the clearance to drink more before symptoms started, he was still respecting the one drink rule. He took a sip of champagne to respect the toast and poured the rest into Josh’s glass. Rhett looked around for Jessie. The woman intrigued him. He saw her, laughing with Christy and her parents. Rhett kicked himself that it hadn’t occurred to him until now to ask where Link’s mother and stepfather were. He figured they’d be arriving later tonight or tomorrow just in time for the ceremony and put the concern out of his head. Jessie’s hair was up, a chignon at the nape of her neck and wisps of hair to frame her face. Her dress was swirls of different blues - the bride and groom’s apparent motif for the ceremony and festivities - he could see a bit of a plunge and décolletage, some of her back was exposed and the dress swirled and billowed out in the breeze. Beautiful. Simple. Christy wore a short white dress, sweetheart neckline and a sequined bodice. Link wore white shorts and a pale blue polo with a white collar. His feet were bare and he carried his blue flip flops in his hand. Every so often he gestured with them. The maitre’d burst through the lanai doors of the restaurant and announced that dinner was served. 

The party snaked their way through the buffet before finding their assigned seats. Rhett and Josh made their way through the buffet slowly, excitedly reading every placard. Rhett spooned a bit of everything onto his plate: diri ak djon djon (spicy blackened rice with dried mushrooms and fresh tomatoes); joumou (pumpkin puréed with beef stock, chunks of vegetables and some rib meat and hamhock); lambi (conch meat with salt and lime); poulex aux noix (chicken with cashew nuts); woma boukannen (grilled lobster); they topped off with some pikliz for acid and crunch. Each table was laden with pitchers of sangria, a chilled white wine, and fried breadfruit and plantain.

After the main course, servers cleared tables and poured dessert wines and espresso as the dessert cart was wound through the restaurant offering tarte tatin (apples caramelised in butter and sugar in a flaky, buttery tart); clafoutis (berries on a buttered pan covered with thick flan, served warm with cream and powdered sugar); croquembouche (a cone of crunchy, airy, wiry choux pastry puffs with threads of caramel); and the piece de resistance: pain patate (sweet potato bread pudding) with banana beignet, drizzled with chocolate ganache and lightly-salted, crunchy, crushed roasted peanuts. 

As the stuffed party sat sated and full to bursting, the tables were cleared and the lanai doors opened to reveal its transformation. There were strings of light, and a DJ began playing music. There was also a bonfire with big comfy chairs in a circle around. Rhett and the crew made their way to the chairs and talked with members of the wedding party - including some disgustingly wealthy new arrivals who’d come on their own ships. Servers walked around filling their cups with iced water and when the crew had rested and digested enough to feel comfortable again they went onto the dance floor to bust some moves. 

It was moments like these that reminded Rhett how little music was a part of his life these days. Any quiet moment he got to himself where he wasn’t barking orders or putting out fires, was spent in contemplation or planning. Music had been a big part of his life with Link.They played music while they cooked, softly while they ate. How had he passed a year and more now with no music? 

Melodic canned vocals played over the speakers. Rhett felt a tap on his shoulder. Jessie, a vision in her blue, met his gaze with a smile. “May I have this dance, sir? This is a song I requested.” She smiled. Josh patted his shoulder. Rhett and Jessie swayed through Janelle Monae’s _I Like That_ , Otis Redding’s _These Arms of Mine_ , Jamie-Rose’s _Agnes Water,_ Sam Cooke’s _I Belong to Your Heart,_ and J Balvin’s _No Hay Titulo_. That last one hit Rhett close to the bone. With the new upgrade to his tech, the lyrics were translated in real time with minimal lag. 

Empezamos como amigos 

<we started as friends>

Y todo se complicó 

<and everything got complicated>

....

They walked along the beach, traces of Vampire Weekend’s _Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa_ reaching them every now and again. The more they talked, the more they closed the distance and the mood lightened between them. They talked of music - both had eclectic tastes; business - both were still building what they hoped would one day be empires, if not at the very least sustainable enterprises; literature - Rhett never could seem to finish an entire book before being struck by the overwhelming urge to start a new one, and had moved on to Man’s Search for Meaning by Victor Frankl. Jessie was reading The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. 

“Oh yeah, fuku and zafa. I found that book so sad. Hard to find hope in that book.”

“Yeah, I cut it with some lighter reads and poetry. It’s on a list of books called Neo-classics. Can you believe it? That book is 12 years older than us, a little closer in age to Link and Christy and it's considered a classic. Time is trippy! I got my degree in Literature and Science, trying to specialize in Science Fiction for which I had to try to create my own major, and even then we could only use books from a certain time period. And now here we are and books that were scoffed at then are considered classics now. When did that happen? When was this shift?”

“I don’t know? I think war helps the pendulum swing one direction or the other and clears out the dust and makes people less stuffy about some things and more stuffy about others. Maybe it happened when we were looking the other way. Kind of like the acceleration of change theory but with war. Like an acceleration of history? Is that a thing? How it seems we get to certain telos’ faster, like the unthinkable becomes thinkable and then old fashioned so much quicker!”

They talked like this some more. Jessie meeting him quickly on the ledge of some crazy ideas, reeling him back on others, plunging ahead of him on others still. She wasn’t afraid to hold her own opinion, or to challenge him. Before they knew it they’d walked a circle and were back on the dance floor. Link and Christy were in the middle of a sparse floor, swaying to the last snatches of Cat Clyde’s _Like a Wave_ and then into Sade’s _By Your Side_. 

Rhett poured Jessie and himself some water and they sat close, perched on the lip of the drink table. 

“Last song! Everyone up!” The DJ played STRFKR’s cover of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ , less tinny than the original but just as fun. 

Rhett walked Jessie to her room and thanked her for the dances and the lively discussion. They tapped wrist units to exchange contact information. 

Rhett returned to the room, showered and stayed up well past when he intended to, messaging with Jessie. Josh tossed and swatted at the light. “Tell her I said good night,” he mumbled, nuzzling into Rhett’s neck. 

> Rhett: I woke Josh with the light. Gonna sign off here but I’m sure this is not the last you’ll hear of me.
> 
> Jessie: Better not be, Captain! ;)

Rhett squirmed his back against Josh and wrapped his arm around him. Josh crooked his knees into the back of Rhett’s legs and snored into his back. 


	8. Mother, Dear, We’re Not the Fortunate Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vows and food and boundaries and mixed messages and parental meddling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: I’ll Fly With You (Blah Blah Blah - Remix) - Gigi D’Agostino, Sommeil - Stromae, La Donna è mobile - Luciano Pavarroti

In the morning the boys ordered a late breakfast to their rooms: phoscao (a ground corn and cocoa shake) and Pwason Seche ak Bannann (dried fish and boiled plantains) with egg and salsa.

Rhett dressed in his rust colored suit, Josh in copper, their wingtips black with copper accents. Stevie and Cassie had opted for a softer beige motif, but wore heeled wingtips in keeping with the theme. They each put a flower in their breast pocket and took their seats. On the little stage under an arch of flowers, Link stood, waiting for his bride, in a white linen suit. Soon Christy walked down the aisle to the perfunctory tune, donned in a beautiful, lacy white gown with puffy sleeves and a long train. The ceremony was beautiful, elegant. Rhett even shed a tear. But not for joy. Though the couple had opted not to write their own vows, Christy recited a stanza of a familiar poem. Rhett - who hadn’t expected it - missed the first few stanzas, as he had zoned out a bit during the vows. He returned to himself at about  _ <...the rain exploding in the air is love , the grass excreting her green wax is love, and stones remembering past steps is love...> _ and he. saw. RED. Sonia Sanchez? Link had introduced Christy to Sonia Sanchez!? Was nothing sacred? Rhett saw red and bit back tears but one escaped, and he breathed and stilled his face, his shoulders near his ears, he rolled his neck and his shoulders, calming himself. He willed his legs to stay plastered to his seat. _ “Forgive me if i laugh. You are so sure of love... Once, what does it matter when or who, I knew of love. I fixed my body under his and went to sleep in love, all trace of me was wiped away…” _ Rhett recited the rest of the poem in his head, in his voice, in his cadence, to wipe away any memory of Christy claiming it for herself. For them.

Soon, Christy's train and the bulk of the dress's silhouette were removed to reveal a simple sheath dress underneath and Christy’s bare feet. Cheeky. The bride and groom walked back down the aisle, together for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Charles Lincoln Neal III. The party followed the happy couple inside the hotel dining hall for a late island-inspired lunch. There was ceviche, different preparations of chicken, fish and pork, rices, stew, and heaps of fresh vegetables. Rhett opted for the spicy brined Escovitch fish (brined and fried and pickled again in vinegar and spices), and some flaky trout. The rest of the day after lunch was spent lounging on the beach and playing volleyball and badminton. Rhett got the okay from Josh before messaging Jessie to accompany him for some putt putt golf. Though, she was in the area of Christy and Link, Rhett wanted to be gentlemanly and stop by to escort her. Luckily Link wasn’t around, and after explaining to Christy that this didn’t need to be a double date, she let Jessie go. 

Jessie and Rhett joked easily and before they knew it the sun was setting and Jessie’s date was messaging her for dinner. Rhett walked Jessie back to her door and the pair shared a brief kiss and promises to communicate later.

Josh wasn’t in the room when Rhett returned. He showered and took his time getting dressed. He opted for a pair of trunks and a t-shirt. He grabbed hoodies for himself and Josh just in case and headed down to the beach. Dinner was a hearty meat and vegetable stew with a spicy kick and rice. The requisite breadfruit and plantain were on the table, as well as the pickliz the boys had really taken a liking to.

Rhett sat next to Josh, giving him his space, but Josh closed the distance and they talked about how they’d spent the rest of their afternoons.

“Hey, do we need to talk about this Jessie situation? This is just me, Rhett speaking, not your Captain or anything.” He nudged Josh.

“Not really. I knew going in that this might be rebound. I like you but... things could get complicated. Fast. So let’s keep it not complicated. That way it’s always fun.”

“You sure, you’re not just saying that?”

“Yeah man, I’m not joshin’ ya,” he ribbed Rhett. “You’re still working some things out. I don’t want to pressure that. I like you. That’s all I feel the need to say. Would it help if I said I take this non-exclusivity thing seriously?”

Yup. “Roger that. Ok, enough of that. What do I need to give you to keep us swimming in pickliz year round, huh?”

“Right! And there’s this thing in South Carolina called permanent slaw, they just keep it in the fridge forever, pull it out, put a little on food and then put it back in the fridge. And if you really want to mess your mouth up, I can do some devilish Sichuan pickles, they get you in the throat man! Ooh, and we can do kimchi - I actually think the crew would really benefit from some kimchi - a little fermentation action. Get the brine going and just keep feeding it cabbage and vegetables and sugar.”

“Aw man, Link and I once made a Scoby off an old shoe, it was the grossest coolest thing I think I’d ever seen.”

“Sick!”

After dinner the boys crept down to the beach and nestled into a little cabana. They dozed off to the sound of lapping water, kissing and touching each other by the light of the full moon. 

They were awoken to the sounds of hotel staff cleaning the cabanas and rearranging the beach chairs. The sun had just starting to creep above the horizon. They stumbled back to their room and fell back into bed until they were roused by the alarm.

They took their final island breakfast out on the lanai with Stevie and Cassie. Crusty bread, beurre (butter), sardines, dill and tomatoes, scones with more beurre and confitures (jam) des framboises et fraises (raspberries and strawberries) avec crème fraîche épaisse.

They gave the room a once over before hauling their bags down to the lobby and onto the Sprinter vans back to the dock. 

Rhett’s wrist unit buzzed - the vibration heavy and prolonged. He only had that alert mode programmed for certain people: parents. He looked down at the unit: Sue Neal. Link’s mother. He double tapped to display the message.

> Sue: Rhett honey it’s momma Neal. 
> 
> Rhett: Howdy momma, how are you?
> 
> Sue: Don’t fuss after me boy I can’t complain. Why in the good grief are you at that silly wedding?
> 
> Rhett: Link asked me real nice like
> 
> Sue: Charlie is an idiot but I thought better of you Rhett James. Now the old man and I look stupid taking a stand on your behalf and there you are front row center at that mess!

That would explain why Link’s parents weren’t there. Rhett could cry at the gesture. 

> Rhett: I feel like an idiot now momma. Sorry. But I didn’t want to make a scene. We’re trying to be friends. 
> 
> Sue: Rhett James, don’t make me upset. Friends? Who said y’all should be friends. Y’all aren’t meant to be friends.
> 
> Rhett: Momma you should’ve told me what you were planning. I could have told you not to bother with that. To be with your son on this day. We’ve moved on. I’m happy for Link
> 
> Sue: no one moves on from all that history that quickly. It’s not right. 
> 
> Rhett: that’s the way it is momma. You missed a special day. I’m sure they’ll send you pictures and video
> 
> Sue: they already did. That’s how I know you’re there. Silly boy. No matter, I’ll be at the next one

Rhett chuckled. 

> Rhett: yeah she seems the type to want to renew their vows every 5 years. You didn’t miss much...
> 
> Sue: No, I’ll be at the next wedding. You and that boy were not meant to be friends. You’ll see. And so will I.
> 
> Rhett: don’t hold your breath Sue!
> 
> Sue: Watch your mouth boy! :) And don’t keep me waiting long!

  
Rhett shook his head and swiped the conversation away. Sue had faith in him he didn’t have in himself. Link had asked him to go along with it, whatever this was. And Rhett had agreed. Should he tell Sue that? Did Link tell her that?

Rhett typed a message to Link, not expecting a reply.

> Rhett: your mom messaged me
> 
> Link: that was fast. What did she say?
> 
> Rhett: you don’t want to know
> 
> Link: ...
> 
> Rhett: seriously. Why didn’t you tell me they weren’t coming?
> 
> Link: I don’t know. Didn’t want you to worry. Didn’t want to stroke your ego. 
> 
> Rhett: I could have said something to her. Helped sway her. She should have been here for this. 

_I should have been up there with you,_ he typed, then deleted.

> Link: Water under the bridge. Im staying the course
> 
> Rhett: Fine 
> 
> Link: thought I asked you to stay away from Jessie
> 
> Rhett: you were piss drunk
> 
> Link: still. I meant it
> 
> Rhett: and I don’t agree 
> 
> Rhett thought that was the end of it but a few minutes later another message came through from Link. 
> 
> Link: don’t fall in love with her

Rhett slapped the message away. What the fuck was that supposed to mean!?

He sent the logs from both conversations to Stevie who mouthed a ‘What the heck,’ to him when they caught each other’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Now Rhett was in a mood, and desperately needed some distraction. He tried to get into yet another new book, but that didn't quite scratch the itch. He nuzzled into Josh and made a kissy face. Josh leaned down and peppered Rhett with kisses before Rhett reached up and steadied Josh’s chin, pushing in with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Josh pulled away, sucked his bottom lip in and cocked an eyebrow. Rhett poked out his bottom lip and shook his head, he just wanted kisses. Josh dipped his head and Rhett went back in, no particular urgency. Josh ran his hands through Rhett’s hair. Rhett drew lazy circles along his belly and thighs. 

Back aboard the ship, Rhett told Josh it was his call if he wanted to share a room again or if he wanted his space, to which he replied by pulling him into the room they had left, shouting to Stevie and Cassie over his shoulder that they’d meet them in the game room. Josh pushed Rhett down onto the couch by the bed, “we didn’t christen this one last go round,” Josh winked. He palmed Rhett through his sweatpants as they kissed, the blood rushing quickly. Rhett’s head spun as Josh took control. He had him creaming in his pants before he whipped him out and finished Rhett off in his mouth. He tucked him back in and whipped out his own cock, easing it into Rhett’s mouth instructing him to go slow at first, tapping him on the cheek each time he wanted him to pick up the pace. It wasn’t long before he was fucking into his mouth, precum and spit dribbling pitifully down Rhett’s chin as he was made to gargle Josh’s cock. Josh came with a groan and keeled over a bit, Rhett steadied him by his waist so he could keep fucking jaggedly into his mouth. “Fuck, Rhett, how was that?”

“Good,” Rhett tried to say, Josh’s tip still in his mouth.

“You seemed like you needed not to think for a while.” 

He tucked Josh back into his pants, “thanks.” He went to the bathroom to wash his face, and change his shirt. His eyes were red from the strain. He could pass it off as partied out or tired if it came to that.

“I said I was fine, and I meant it. You asked for honesty, you got it. Chase and I have a similar ... you know. I like the freedom. It suits me. This is just sex.” Well, when he put it like that. 

“We talk too, and we’re getting to know each other.” Rhett countered.

Josh pursed his lips and cocked his eyebrows. “Why can’t you say it?”

Rhett huffed. “It’s sex. Sex is a big part of it.”

“Rhett, you can like someone and just be in it for the sex. Not everything has to be a sweeping romantic emotional journey. Not everyone gets 100 years together, you know. We don’t all have to be a James Michener novel telling pre-pre history, pre-history, history and neo-history, or Ken Follett and that damned cathedral, or George R.R. Martin. Not everyone you like will give you that sweeping epic tale. Some are great lays, some are shit lays, some are 2 year relationships, some are 15 year relationships. There doesn’t have to be a set, socioculturally-prescribed and mediated telos that ends with two kids and a sprawling house in the plush hills of Elysium overlooking your winery and your farm. Some people don’t want that. Some people can’t give you that. Or they won’t want it with you.”

Rhett paused pulling his shirt over his head, using the opportunity to process Josh’s last string of words. He calmed himself before he popped his head through the neck hole. 

“Okay, Okay, jeez, it’s just sex Josh. No more, no less.” Maybe that was the distance he needed from it. To not approach it as heavily and urgently as if it were with Link. Sex with Josh didn’t have to express anything but attraction and interest. Didn’t have to communicate love, trust, desire, forever, history, all those deep emotions he and Link worked through together, ebbing and flowing, stepping into roles they were only comfortable with when the only thing at stake was pleasure. Maybe then he would stop treating Josh like a precious, fragile porcelain thing he would break if not handled carefully and just so. “This is good. Think I still had some walls up with you. Just sex. You ready for that? Just sex?”

“Ooh baby, bring it on!” Josh swirled his hips, and snapped his shirt at Rhett. 

The crew settled into a thrilling game of Ticket to Ride before the dinner bell. Rhett was less than excited about dinner. Not sure how anything could stand up to their meals on Tryerion but Link and Christy must have thought the same thing for the meal consisted of the vinegary fish, pickliz, the pumpkin soup over rice, and tarts a-la-mode for dessert. 

A surge of goodwill found Rhett’s feet carrying him toward the newlyweds’ table, bringing them both in for a hug and whispering how he expected an invite to the baby shower and wanted to be at the hospital to support his brother. Link’s eyes went wide but he covered it with a smile and promises to make sure he was on the invite list. Christy even nudged Link and mouthed something about a housewarming. 

“Uh- right, Rhett,” he started slowly, turning to Rhett, “Christy and I are moving and would love to have you at the housewarming?” he said through gritted teeth.... Rhett swore he blacked out as Link kept talking. There was a tone in his ear, things started spinning and beyond that all he could hear was the 'wa wom wa wom wom wa wa wa wom,' he tried to focus on Link's lips opening and closing, that little fang tooth, his jumble of teeth on the bottom row. Was he getting enough sleep? Was he partying too hard?

“Rhett" Finally, Christry's voice cut through to Rhett and brought him back into the conversation. Rhett blinked at her. "Link was telling me that you’re going to be starting construction on your ship. Where are you going to stay? Don’t you live there?”

“Ah, well, I have a little apartment space in my offices. I have tenants but their lease is not up yet. But I had planned to stay during construction.”

“No, it’ll be 24/7, we just have teams work for 8 hours each. And the foremen work 12 so there’s continuity of vision.” Link stammered.

“You can stay at Link’s place. He’s keeping it as a pied-à-terre. Can’t bring himself to part with it and the building is co-op so there are all these ridiculous hurdles to jump through to rent...” Christy waved her hand. “So it’s settled!” 

“I don’t know if that settles it Christy. But thank you for the offer. Let me think on it.”

He felt like the walls were closing in on him. Why hadn't it dawned on him sooner that he couldn't stay in the ship during the construction? He returned to his table, a little shaken. 

"Stevie, I know you've been running point on the construction thing, were you planning on staying aboard the ship during that time," 

"Like, living there? No, I planned to check in periodically during the day and figured big strapping guy like you would keep vigil over the night crews... but stay there, no. I'm sure you can probably swing it from the Captain's quarters. They seem to be pretty well insulated from the sounds of the ship, but even my quarters would still be pretty close to the action." 

"Uh huh," Rhett mused, combing his fingers through his beard. 

"Why?"

"No reason, just been so distracted that it didn't occur to me that maybe I wouldn't be able to stay on the ship while it's grounded.”

“Josh, what was your plan during the hiatus?” 

“Dunno. Planned to stick around the shop. Figured I’d get contracted to cook for the boys, it is my kitchen after all. And in my spare time finish my next cookbook.”

“Rhett, can we talk somewhere else? Maybe, back in the suite?” Stevie had an incredulous look on her face. Rhett shrugged his shoulders and clomped down the hall behind her. They entered the suite and settled on the couch. Their ice creams melting into their tarts as they talked. “Did you forget you just fell ass backwards into $13 million? Why don’t you take a break? 

“You’re right! I can just blow through the millions and then have nothing!”

“Not what I mean. When was the last time - this week excluded - that you just had Rhett time?”

“I don’t know that I ever have?” 

“Could be a good time to slow down. Re-evaluate.”

  
  


“You know I can’t sit still... need to be doing stuff. Can’t leave money on the table.”

“Then how about you invest in something that can become a means of passive income. Like, a luxury liner. Or some kind of passenger liner. Captain McWhatsHisFace must really clean up on this luxury liner thing. Maybe you can get into that.”

“Like be the Captain?”

“Hah! No. I said passive income. You would shoot yourself in the face of boredom. You hate entertaining. You could get the ship but you shouldn’t pilot it. Do you have any other captains you trust?”

“No.”

“What? What about Jenn. She had an impeccable record in Canada. She piloted stuff out there.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that. She was your hire. Would she be game?”

“I can’t talk to her. She’s got the leadership skills too, could take a small crew. If we make it all women... you know there’s still not a lot of women running their own brigs. Could be lucrative.”

“Yeah and Link has been busting my chops to get a new ride. He might have some thing fresh off the line.”

“Rhett, if we do this, I want a piece.”

“You putting any money up?”

“Yeah, I’ve got savings, and my crates. And Cassie would throw something in too, if you’re actually serious about this.”

“When you gonna marry that girl?”

“Rhett, really?”

“What, you think she’s putting up that kind of money without some expectations of commitment? Or are you making her a named partner in SkyDeck Enterprises as well?”

Stevie paled. Rhett couldn’t let this go.

“For once, I’ve thought about something you haven’t. I like this feeling.”

Stevie swatted at Rhett.

“What’s the big idea? What are you waiting for? You want to hitch your cart to my wagon, that’s fine, Stevie. You know I need you and value you. I’d do anything for you and I’ve seen you do the same for me. But tell me you didn’t think there weren’t any strings attached to Cassie’s money. Even unspoken. You’re not that blind. That’s not you.”

“I don’t know. I was all set to and it seemed we were on that path and then you and Link...”

“What’s this got to do with me and Link?”

“Oh god Rhett, if you and Link can’t figure it out what hope is there for me and Cassie? We haven’t seen any real strife. We haven’t been stress tested.”

“Stevie, me and Link, that’s a deep rooted issue. A number of them. Somewhere along the way we lost the words to have those arguments properly, they never end well. And neither of us seem to be able to give up our positions. Best advice, don’t let it get to that point. Start seeing someone. Get a counselor. Sometimes you need a third party to mediate, to push you deeper. Some things are bubbling under the surface you don’t know about, or maybe there’s another layer you just haven’t unlocked yet. There’s still time to be loved in the way that you want and to love Cassie in the way that she wants, or at least to find the words and common language to ask for it. You owe yourselves that. And you know that never in a million years would you break off a piece of your nest egg for a girlfriend. You wouldn’t do it. And kid, since she’s coming with the money, ball is in your court. You’ve got to bring the ring.”

“I have the ring.”

“You got her parents’ blessing.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you or don’t you?”

“Yes. I have their blessing.”

“Your parents know about this?”

“Yeah, it’s my grandmothers ring.”

“So, what were you waiting for?”

“I don’t know, okay! We hadn’t talked about it yet. This is a big decision. I couldn’t do something like this while you were still...”

“Stevie. I’m fine. Never think you can’t come to me with something like this. And don’t let me get away with holding you back from seeking your bliss! Cassie is about to be your WIFE! She has to come first. You have to make it back home to her every night, not to me.”

“I know, but still. It became a thing...”

“I became a useful excuse once you’d exhausted all the others, I get it.”

“No, I wanted you to be a part of this, Rhett. You’re like... a big brother, little bit of a father figure, little bit of a little brother, and one of my best friends. You stopped being a boss a long time ago. You know that. I need you for this!”

“I’m here now, Stevie. Sorry that I haven’t been. But I’m here now. When do you want to propose?”

“The night we get back. We’ll still be high on post-wedding vibes. Can go to a nice restaurant.”

“Got a place that means something to you?”

“Yeah! When she finally became a doctor she wanted to go to this place, The Ivy. It’s in Beverly Grove. And we’ve had anniversary dinners and a few fancy dates there. They know us. Will make our night special.”

The pair continued discussing until their dates came back to the suite. The foursome spent the rest of the night cuddled up on the couches watching movies and debriefing their time in paradise. Rhett messaged Jessie intermittently. 

Rhett was starting to doze when another message came through. He flicked over to it, a link to an archived article from [Aeon](https://aeon.co/essays/can-we-hope-to-understand-how-the-greeks-saw-their-world) about Greeks and the sea. 

> The Greeks had different words for blue,  “within the entirety of Ancient Greek literature you cannot find a single pure blue sea or sky.” They saw colors as either broad or infinitesimally specific. “Today no one thinks there has been a stage in the history of humanity when some colors were ‘not yet’ being perceived. Thanks to our modern anthropological gaze it is accepted that every culture has its own way of naming and categorizing colors.” It wasn’t anatomical, it was cultural and emotional. Salience is the capacity of a color to catch visual attention - to even be registered and imputed into the brain’s computer. There was also intent - chloride could mean green or fresh; Leila’s could mean white or shining - so it wasn’t a matter of perception, but intent (check the grammar of this sentence against the article. Leila and chloride - are those words correct?). So Nietzsche - bless his soul - was guilty of a very peculiar logical fallacy when he said that the Greeks, blind as they were to blue and green, must have viewed their world as muddled and muddied a deeper brown and a form of yellow instead of a vibrant blue and a singing green. They used the same word for plants and human skin, of honey and resins, and their greatest painters seemingly rendered their world in abject resolutes, black, white red, yellow.”

The next morning they awoke on the couches. Rhett returned to the room to do his morning stretches before showering.


	9. Going out with a bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babies and last straws and cookbooks, intergalactic travel and more babies!  
> Link’s chickens come home to roost…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap; Sleepyhead - Passion Pit; Ignorance - Paramore
> 
> Quote: “I go so far as to think you own the universe.” Pablo Neruda

Rhett hadn’t given any more thought to Christy’s offer of the apartment. No way he was going to live in his old apartment during his ship’s renovations. Besides, Link had jumped on the idea of SkyDeck test-riding some prototypes of luxury liners. The light crew he’d taken on the runs loved the promise of some extra cash during their sabbatical, and Josh revelled the opportunity to try out some of his more swanky recipes for an adoring crowd and more sophisticated palates. It also gave Rhett an alibi during the housewarming, even though the date was pushed back a few times as the couples’ multi-million dollar home kept going over budget and the timeline for completion pushed back. That’s how it was that Rhett and Stevie found themselves knee-deep in Christy’s birthing pool, mopping her brow under the watchful eye of her doula and spiritual circle. Link had fainted onto a sofa and stayed there with an ice pack on his forehead, Stevie running back and forth to give him updates. Laila Fae Neal was the sweetest little thing with little wisps of curly hair and a proclivity for her fists. Liam James Neal had not a speck of hair on his head but a set of lungs on him that shook the room, and Link’s piercing blue eyes. 

Christy was touched with a spell of the postpartum blues. Ever the socialite, she couldn’t ask any of her “friends” for assistance and poo-pooed nannies, so it fell to Link to care for the children and tend to his wife however he could. Jessie supported her as well, though with her schedule at the bar she was on day duty while the boys took nights. It was a no-brainer to Rhett, however, that he would stay and support Link and Christy in any way he could. Knowing how important kids were to Link, and fully meaning every word he’s said about wanting to watch little Links grow and experience the world. The very thing he had fretted - being in Link’s space now that he was married to someone else - happened and it actually wasn’t half bad. Months passed like that, Stevie taking more of the SkyDeck reins while Rhett spent most nights at the Lamont home. They would book jaunts for a week on with a week of downtime so Rhett could catch up with Link and the babies. The twins grew to know the smell of Rhett’s clothes, his soap, his voice and apparently cried for him the last time he’d left.

At home one night, Link and Rhett passed Laila Fae and Liam James between themselves as they made dinner - for both the adults and the babies, music playing softly, wine decanting and light conversation flowing easily. Rhett had almost convinced himself this was really his life until he poured a second glass of wine and a look of worry and panic flashed across Link’s face. Rhett didn’t have it in him to fight against the image of him crystallized in Link’s head. He felt there weren’t anymore pieces of his heart left to break for the man, for their lost love. In the moment all he felt was a sense of self-preservation - the cold shock as his walls sprang up, the need to defend himself and preserve his image. He let go eventually, letting his thoughts swirl, filtering out what didn’t serve him - a trick taught by his therapist. He let the emotions wash over him one by one, and released them unchanged in the order in which they’d come. He meditated on the words of Frédéric Gros, bouncing Laila on his hip, cooing to her and humming. Knowing that she liked the deep register of his voice, and that the sounds could help her developing brain grasp on to and eventually mimic the vocalizations. 

> By walking, you escape from the very idea of identity, the temptation to be someone, to have a name and a history. Being someone is all very well for smart parties where everyone is telling their story... But isn't being someone also a social obligation which trails in its wake – for one has to be faithful to the self-portrait – a stupid and burdensome fiction? The freedom in walking lies in not being anyone; for the walking body has no history, it is just an eddy in the stream of immemorial life.

Link’s vision of him was set, fixed and mounted. Had taken all those years to craft but the minute he’d lost control and lost himself, it wasn’t just a betrayal to himself, it had been a betrayal to Link. And only someone who wasn’t Rhett could betray Link. Splitting. If person X hurt Link, then person X must not be Rhett. Couldn’t be Rhett, because Rhett wouldn’t hurt him so badly. It was coping. It was protection. There was no going back, no reset button either of them could hit. Rhett could walk forever and still not put enough distance in Link’s mind between his Rhett and that Rhett. And no matter how he changed and grew he would never be as good and whole and pure as Link’s Rhett. He would forever be tainted goods, ever on the precipice of disaster, threatening to drag Link back down with him. Link had a family now, children, his conception of his life now had to factor in two more people who depended on him for everything. Rhett wondered if it was unfair for him to impose on Link like that. If selfishly wanting a front row seat, and to prolong the inevitable, had made it worse - had just prolonged the time it would take for him and Link to heal. To truly, truly, move on. Even though Link did need and accept his help, this was still, somehow, Rhett’s fault. Right? Since he wasn’t Link’s Rhett, he wouldn’t get the blind trust and faith that had accrued to Rhett after all those years? He would always be an imposter, a thief in the den, a threat. 

_ “You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles in the desert, repenting.”  _ Mary Oliver. 

Rhett couldn’t bring himself to drink the wine now. He pushed the glass across the counter to Link. Bouncing and swaying as he carried Laila into the dining room to start her feed. Eight months now, the little ones were on breast milk, some formula and taking very quickly to peas, carrots and sweet potatoes. 

_ “I should learn to accept twilight, deserts, impasses. I am liberated of my obsessive love, but not of the love itself.” _ Anais Nin, Mirages: Diaries 1939-47

Rhett thought back to Josh’s words that day. About what kind of novel he and Link were. They were Michener, for sure - a thick tome. But for all their history and pre-history of pining and coaxing and precision, they were writing their present in broad strokes. This chapter lacked finesse. It was heavy. And as much as it pained him to say it. He was ready for it to be over. 

_ “There would be no need for love if perfection were possible. Love arises from our imperfection, from our being different and always in need of the forgiveness, encouragement and that missing half of ourselves that we are searching for, as the Greek myth tells us, in order to complete ourselves.”  _ \- Eugene Kennedy

  
  


Rhett was ready to swing for the fences again. To try for that kind of love. He was hiding himself from the world. Jessie had given up trying to crack his shell. He was going from work to Link’s house, with a big “Unavailable” sign on his head. There had been more mysterious trips for Link and his nebulous associated businesses. Often they ended with mysterious scientists and other shady characters showing up to his house at odd hours and doctored bills of lading absent-mindedly stashed under menus and shoved into folders. More lawyers meeting him on the docks as he offloaded, more exorbitant sums of money transferred to his accounts. 

With backing from SkyDeck and the new decentralized cronyism that had become of Penguin Publishing - that name meaning less since penguins had been extinct for at least a decade and a half - Josh published his next cookbook set.  _ Future Fast Food _ , attempts to recreate the most viral food moments in history from Earth 1, using food substitutes, genmods, animal life and flora from other planets - the book was sorted chronologically and also by ease and cost of acquiring products, laced throughout it in peak Josh fashion was a culinary history of the world and a manifesto on consumerism, fascism, feminism, indigeneity, and creativity. A smart read.  _ Galactic Gourmand _ was the second book in the set. A high-concept cookbook, Rhett had no words to describe it. In fact, the back cover was completely blank, the front cover matter was a blue-purplish-black image of the galaxy from circa 2019 when telescopes were still fairly weak and juvenile in the grand scheme of things. And the spine of the book had the title and author in raised matte vantablack letters. The dishes were sublimely photographed and impeccably curated and crafted; the book was pure art. No dish cost less than $3,000 to source and make. Rhett had let Josh go rogue with that one. Amazed at the ROI when people and beings the galaxy over snapped the book up and created challenges, posting pictures and videos of them sourcing and making the dishes. Another layer was that the instructions often called for manual handling and preparation of ingredients and access to things like graters, mandolins and other tools that were now considered vintage. Super fans rose to the challenge and the crew conceptualized a live-in tour where people could buy tickets to travel between stops on the tour, pick Josh’s brain and make food with him in the kitchen. This tour turned into an extension and soon the crew found themselves bopping through space on a luxury craft, stopping in places for a few days to take in the sights, meet fans, and cook while Josh researched and gained inspiration for his next set of books. In this way they passed two years. 

Rhett kept in touch with Link and Christy during this time, and made covert runs for Link, delivering the items to a dock on a buffer planet. He was always greeted by a different unnamed representative who was in charge of ferrying the items back to the inner solar system and on to Link on Earth-2.

Rhett and Josh kept their thing going and it was even starting to blossom from a fuck buddy whatchamacallit into a situationship though they were still not exclusive; Josh making more use of that clause than Rhett these days. 

Rhett and the crew made it back in time for the birth of Leah Rae Neal. Taking their stations in the birthing pool. Rhett didn’t have to be asked to stay after the delivery - though this time around Christy and Link opted for a live-in nanny to help. Rhett carried his bags to the spare room and fell smoothly into the routines that had ushered Laila Fae and Liam James into the world some years ago. Now they were running underfoot and babbling at him and Link. The atmosphere between him and Link was lighter this time around. Time and Rhett’s resolve rounding their edges, saw them sink comfortably into friend mode. They were even able to crack jokes when not talking about work or Rhett’s assessment of the craft Link had designed for him. Rhett slipped into Dad Mode, as Link liked to call it. More expressive and lavishing of praise on Rhett now, than he had been last go-round. They had trial and error under their belts and more bandwidth for other emotions besides panic, fear and the sugar shock of awe each time a baby did something new or cute. They didn’t feel as strung out as they had with the twins. They’d even taken to referring to each other as daddy, much like the 2-year olds called them. Sometimes there was a sexual charge behind it; sometimes they dropped the ‘d’ word when their name or no noun or pronoun was even necessary. But Rhett needed to get his rocks off somehow. Though his self-pleasure had become a tad mechanical since moving back in - he had to squeeze one out whenever and however he could squeeze it in - daddy talk was really driving him over the edge. Though they’d settled into a comfortable, jovial space, Rhett was still taken aback when Christy and Link announced their plan to finally take their honeymoon trip. Christy would go ahead of Link and the kids - taking some solo time to shop and visit with friends - while Link, the nanny and children would join her when Leah Rae was old enough to travel (age six months or older). 

Wanting more time with the kids and being a bit over protective, Rhett opted to transport Link and the kids there and the whole gang plus Christy back on the return trip. In hindsight, maybe the press release shouldn’t have been sent out that said Christy was going to be on the maiden voyage of Link’s new spacecraft. All chickens return home to roost, and Link’s were overdue. Furthermore, they’d been given a map straight to the ace in the hole. 

Link had been bamboozled. All the covert runs he’d been involved in, shipping equipment and men for the anti-spaceperialism resistance hadn’t saved him. He’d been swept up in it. They had a cell on his vessel, took over the ship and took Christy hostage on another craft. They demanded an obscene amount of money. When he’d picked up the call, Link thought it was a joke at first. He recognized the voice on the other end for Chrissakes. They’d put Christy on the line, screaming and wailing - then, it became real. 

“What did you do Charles! What the fuck did you do!? Pay them! Call my parents!”

He couldn’t. They were imprisoned. Awaiting trial in the sham court the resistance had erected on their home turf. Ignorant to Link’s role in aiding and abetting the resistance, the Earth-2 government were also slamming Link with requests to supply the military with fast, sleek warships and the deadliest weapon his twisted mind could conjure. He came clean to Rhett. 

“I couldn’t take what they did to you. What happened. You were right. You were always right.”

“You- you did this for me?” Rhett was confused, and a bit slow on the uptake. “Link, what the hell did you get yourself into!?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

They had the kids and his crew, his state of the art ship. They could bunker down, no one knew where Link was, they could hide. “Sima 1. I have connections. We can fly there. Their Supreme Leader owes me. Big time.” Rhett rambled.

They headed to Sima on all cylinders. Partway through the journey Link got a taunting call from Christy’s kidnappers but in their hubris they failed to fully hide their location. A call to prayer blared in the background. Rhett knew where they were. He changed course. Knowing Link would fight him tooth-and-nail not to go directly, but would never forgive him if he knew Rhett had the chance to save the mother of his children and didn’t take it.

He set a course and put a call in to Lurr, the Supreme Leader of Sima 1 who agreed to furnish soldiers, ships and weapons to help them raid the kidnappers’ ship in exchange for crafts and technology. Rhett couldn’t promise that without Link. He beckoned for Stevie to take command, transferred the call to his wrist unit, and went to find Link. Link was a ball of nerves but he knew Rhett was right. He haggled with Lurr - of course - but eventually the two came to an agreement and their army was dispatched. The Siman ships beat them to the coordinates and were engaged in disarming the ship and trying to board when they arrived. The rebel ship was no match for the Siman throng and were overpowered. 

Link insisted on being part of the crew that boarded the ship. Rhett could not talk him out of it. “She sees a bunch of soldiers and they say they’re here on my behalf, is she gonna trust them after all this? They'll flank me, I’ll scoop her up and then we’ll be back on the ship before you know it.” He would not hear arguments that he didn’t know where on the ship they were holding her, how many others and if there were traps or decoys. He did not want to wait. He was tired of sitting on his hands. Link kissed the children and Rhett saw their care turned over to Chase and Mike, of whom the children had grown fond during the journey. 

Rhett scooped Link into a tight hug. “Dude, the battle’s already over, don’t worry about me.” Rhett tried to muster a hopeful smile. There was too much uncertainty, and Link blamed himself too much to see reason. Rhett had to let him go. The last Rhett remembered was Link jogging through the hold before a large blast knocked him off his feet and his world went black.


	10. At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixtape: Happy Haunting - Rare Monk, No Room for Doubt - Lianne Le Havas
> 
> Quote: “Time, the devourer, and the jealous years/ With long corruption ruin all the world/ And waste all things in slow mortality.” Metamorphoses, Ovid, Book 15

Rhett came to; there was a ringing in his ears and a pain in his back but he could wiggle his fingers and toes. He tried to sit up in bed. 

“Take it slow, Cap. You’ve been out a few days.” His nurse cautioned him.

“What?” He turned his head to the increased beeping, and startled at all the IV lines. 

“Yeah. Explosion took you out. They had their hold rigged to blow on a delay. False security - Simans got in there fine but they would’ve caught them on the way back out. It was their fail safe. Every hold we breached sped the time up, Link opened the last hold. We took some damage but put the blast doors up to seal that hold. We spun out but Stevie got us back right and the crew threw lines. Simans counted their heads and deads and took no mercy on that ship. They got to Christy. She’s safe.”

“Where’s Link?” Rhett asked, his heart in his throat, his mind racing.

“Rhett, you’re not-”

“Where is he?” He repeated, stern, with more bass in his voice.

“Let me do a head to toe on you, finish some of these lines, clean you up and I’ll take you to him. Deal?”

Rhett nodded.

Days stretched into weeks as Rhett camped at Link’s bedside. A steely presence. He had to be reminded to eat, to drink, to stretch his legs. He sat for hours unflinching, keeping watch and vigil until his back and legs went numb. When he finally got up to stretch, to walk, unfolding was a shock to his limbs, his joints complained like unoiled hinges. He bent at the hips, the knees, circled his head this way then that way, flexed and curled his toes, wiggled his fingers, down dog, cat-cow, chair, sun salutations, tree, the asanas rote, unfeeling - though a boon to his aching body. The whoosh from the Link’s ventilator was comforting, the gurgles and alarms were not. He banished the thought of ‘what if’ from his mind, shot down the ship doctor and nurse when they tried to broach the subject of contingency plans and next steps. “What’s the rush? He’s coming back.”  _ ‘For me,’ _ left unspoken. 

Christy abandoned hope; stopped coming by with the kids. Rhett gave her space with Link, the only time he left the room was to offer her privacy. Though he could hear her descent into hopelessness. The last few times she’d sat by the bed she’d been begging, bargaining. Her final time she’d given an ultimatum. Offered up all her worldly possessions to faceless gods, countless moons, the sun (which would take everything anyway, and didn’t need anything, burning its hellish yellow heat until zilch), all in exchange for Link’s life. Her eyes were bloodshot, streaks of dried tears on her face when she exited the room. He would have been impressed with her capacity for sacrifice if it would have truly cost her anything. Her family had countless riches and wealth beyond imagining - what she was offering was a pittance compared to the extent of their vast fortune. He had the moral high ground here- his only comfort- and he could judge her for wavering, for not believing in Link, for caving. He and Link were promised each other in every life - this one and the next and the next- he could wait, it wasn’t much time relatively speaking… and they had unfinished business. 

“I can’t do this anymore. I need to protect my sanity… and carry on for my kids,” Christy wailed into Rhett’s chest. Rhett understood. They’d made a covenant before God and family, but his bond with Link was writ in wood, etched into tables, tree trunks, bunk beds, silly tattoos, and sealed in blood. His faith was beyond impenetrable, beyond cosmic, he believed in Link to his core, it was in his very DNA. Link would not leave him, it was impossible, unthinkable, wrong. They would wait. He was the Captain, his word was law.

He summoned his guitar. Played his fingers bloody and raw, sang himself hoarse. When he couldn’t speak anymore - choking down tea, lemon, honey - he wrote. Wrote all the things he wished to say to Link but couldn’t. He wrote songs, mashing his words into some of their favorites.

He started slow. 

_ “Oh, my love, my darling, _

_ I've hungered for your touch, _

_ A long, lonely time,  _

_ Time goes by so slowly,  _

_ And time can do so much,  _

_ Are you still mine?” _

-Sam Cooke, Unchained Melody

He apologized.

_ “I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me,  _

_ I still feel your touch in my dreams. _

_ Forgive me my weakness, but I don't know why _

_ Without you it's hard to survive” _

-Cascada, Everytime we touch. 

He cried.

_ “We only said goodbye with words.  _

_ I died a hundred times.  _

_ You go back to her, _

_ And I go back to us.”  _

-Amy Winehouse, Back to Black

He pined.

_ “Watch my back so I'll make sure,  _

_ You're right behind me as before,  _

_ Yesterday, the night before, tomorrow.” _

-Lykke Li, Tonight

He stretched.

_ “On the way into this world my soul was borne in two,  _

_ searching for you, I’ve been searching for you. _

_ I don't care where we're going just wanna be with you.” _

-Matisyahu, Unique is my Dove

He made promises he fully intended to keep.

  
  


_ “I'll be your army, Your army of one. _

_...Fall into me, love is all you need. _

_ I’ll be you gatekeeper… drop your defense” _

-Teyana Taylor, Gatekeeper

When he found his resolve waning, he begged, pleaded. 

_ “I was a firecracker, baby, with something to prove,  _

_ Now I gotta contend with the living blues,  _

_ I could've missed it,  _

_ I never knew,  _

_ chain reaction but you’re holding the fuse.  _

_ I was gonna die young, now I gotta wait for you.” _

-Sylvan Esso, Die Young.

He reaffirmed, spoke it plain now so there was no confusion.

_ “All I have is right now and I’ll give you what I got. _

_ You are the o-only good thing that I have ever done. _

_ We will walk until my blood runs out, until my heart is burnt  _

_ You are not alone.” _

-Matisyahu, We Will Walk

All the things he could have said. Should have said. Would have said. If.... If. That word with all its undelivered promises, its pretense, its assumptions. Link was his ‘if and only if.”* Wholly necessary. Wholly sufficient. Could he live without him? He had been trying to. Couldn’t call that living, though. Couldn’t call this living.

> _ *if and only if. Biconditional. Math/Logics/Philosophical term. Used to introduce a condition which is necessary as well as sufficient.  _

And one day, Rhett thought he saw a twitch under the covers, where Link’s toes should be. He couldn’t yet bear a sigh of relief but he breathed a skosh easier. He pulled his chair in closer to the bed, gathered one of Link’s hands in his and started recounting their story to Link. He wanted Link to return to himself - and to him - knowing Rhett’s side of things. He started from the beginning - his first memory, in the time before Link was in his life - right up to that fateful day when they first met. It would still be years until they were friends but Rhett could wait. In all timelines, in all worlds, in spite of all impossibilities and against all odds, in every instance where he got to meet Link - his heart, his life - he would wait. The waiting wasn’t the hard part. Now that they’d had all those years behind them, Rhett could say with certainty, the waiting was nothing compared to the pain of losing. He never wanted to lose Link again. One day - when Link was back to himself - Rhett would ask him to share their story from his perspective, but for now the floor was his. And so he spoke and laughed and cried. And slowly he felt warmth, noticed more concerted movement. With artifacts on the EKG and new alarms and sensors the doctor and nurse were in the room more but Rhett’s voice was constant, a steady beacon he hoped Link had latched onto and was using to climb back toward the light. 

The crash of blue when Link’s eyes finally bloomed open, the sputter and blink, moved Rhett to tears all over again. Happy tears, relieved tears, worried tears. But Link knew him, he registered. He asked for Christy and the kids. They’d long since docked and vacated the ship When Christy arrived, Rhett gave them their space. He soaked in a tub and slept deeply, dead to the world, taking a few days to get back to himself and get his affairs in order. Stevie’d been strong and fair at the helm and Rhett did not begrudge his second in command for stepping up, leaving her at her post a little while longer while he wore a circle in the carpet of his room, pacing, worried that Link would never want to see him again, that Christy would worm her way back in.

#  EPILOGUE

Something, something deus ex machina, Link is absolved of all wrongdoing, divorces Christy and is back with his bo’ right where he belongs. They call Sue, who is beyond happy to hear the news. They must have the wedding at the house! And they live happily ever after!

Some more Sonia Sanchez:

  * Wild geographies of flesh we move in tune. 
  * I hear the moon daring to dance these rooms. O to become a star. Stars seek their own mercy and sigh the quiet, like gods.
  * I peel the spine and flood the earth with adolescence.
  * String your sighs through the rainbow of old age. 



Some more Pablo Neruda:

  * I love you only because it's you, the one I love. In this part of the story I am the one who Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you. Because I love you. Love, in fire and blood. Everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists - aromas, light, metals - were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 
  * If each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine



Other tidbits:

  * “If you cannot be a poet, be the poem.” David Carradine
  * “Touch me / remind me who I am.” Stanley Kunitz, Touch
  * “I love you with so much of my heart that none of it is left to protest with.” Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At Last, Etta James <3


End file.
